This Time
by Nanosecond
Summary: A little part of them always lived in the past, with memories both sweet and sad. They were nations, after all. Fate didn't take sides. The mansion trip was supposed to be a pleasant jaunt, designed to fool them into thinking they were human, if only for a little moment. But then again, their world had always been a ruthless one. They really shouldn't have been surprised. HetaOni
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

 _"Ve, it's really here!"_

Funny how little things grow up to stab you in the ass. England could give you a perfect, if not rather prickly recount of one such incident, which he did with an alarming frequency when he drank himself into a stupor, which he also did with an alarming frequency.

Italy could do better. He'd been living in the said incident for so long he could hardly remember anything else.

 _(pale sheets, pale piano, pale, pale skin... crimson on the wooden boards, tainting, spreading)_

It was just one sentence. No, in fact, just one word. If he hadn't mentioned it, America would not have taken an interest. He usually didn't in anything that couldn't be eaten or blown up. He would not have been interested in a mansion if no one had mentioned it was haunted.

One word, then. One word. If only he had the power to take back that one word. But no matter how many times he rewound the blasted clock, he could not seal his lips before it came out, could not erase it from existence. The clock taunted him. Mocked him for his incompetence.

Fingers reached up, slicked with crimson. A single tear hit the wooden floorboards, followed by another, and another.

 _(iron cross sandy hair green uniform the smell of hair gel - broken metal darkened hair reddening uniform the smell of blood)_

 _(nine pairs of glassy eyes)_

The clock hands were forced upwards violently. A crash in the room beyond-

"Italy? I'm sorry. We can't hold them any longer. Canada just - he, he just, and America... _oh mon Dieu Amerique_ -"

Italy lifted his eyes and smiled as the clock hands clicked. "It's alright, France. I'll tell them you said hello, _si_?

"And that _rosbif_ _Angleterre_ , _eh bien_? When he takes his head out of the clouds long enough to hear you, you tell him to stop looking over his shoulder all the time." France smiled shakily, a hand clasped to a side which he tried to hold away from Italy's view, perhaps hoping he would not notice the treacherous patch of red staining through the indigo cloth.

If so, he hoped in vain.

Italy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He did not want France's last memory of him to be a crying, blubbering mess. Italy tried to work up a smile, for France's sake if nothing else, but it fell short. Pathetic.

France shuddered as a hoarse cry came from the room beyond. Italy flinched as France turned to him, and with one of his old brilliant, mischievous grins, snapped a quick, sharp salute.

" _Vive la France_." France whispered. Then he turned and strode towards the monsters, head held high, a broken chair leg held tightly in a bloodied hand.

Italy faced the wall so nobody would see his face. His hands trembled as they found the clock.

Time waited for no man, they said.

But by God, Time was going to wait for him if he had to lasso it with an iron chain and drag it down, kicking and screaming. They were going to get out. They were _all_ going to get out, goddammit.

 _(how many times had he told himself that?)_

The clock burned under his fingers as he forced the hands back. Italy gritted his teeth.

 _Take. Us. Back._

 _(Blue eyes, gloved hand in his, a faint, faint smile.)_

 _TAKE US BACK!_

The world dissolved-

* * *

"- thought it was just a rumour. I never thought we would actually find it"

Italy blinked as he snapped out of his thoughts. Germany was giving him a Look. It was the kind of Look he usually got when Italy slacked off during training, or had accidentally loaded his gun with pasta instead of ammunition. Half exasperation, a quarter irritation, and 100% resignation.

He smiled cheerfully at the blond in an effort to show he was giving the situation his full attention. Germany huffed quietly and looked away.

"It has such a desolate feel... Not bad!" Prussia crowed in delight, red eyes enthusiastically sweeping the cracked walls, creeping ivy, and broken tiles. He was almost prancing on the spot, the rusty sword he always kept around rattling in its sheath.

His blond brother made a noncommittal grunt. "It doesn't look that interesting." Germany muttered.

Japan nodded. "I agree. Can't we simply look at it from the outside and go back? I do not like the ambience of this place. It feels ... dead." He shifted his weight to his right foot, perhaps in discomfort. With Japan, it was always hard to tell.

Italy hid a flinch. He bit his lip and stared at the ground, hating himself for what he had to say next. He _could_ send them home... But will Prussia listen? And America, who was bound to come sniffing later? What about China, with his indefatigable pride? England, who was so desperate to prove his strength after the fall of his empire?

Italy knew the answer almost before he asked the question.

He grinned childishly at his companions.

"Aww... After all the trouble we had finding it? C'mon, just for a little while? Germany? Prussia? _Giappone_?"

Germany sighed through his nose. "A little while." He allowed.

Italy beamed. He had to clench his teeth to hold back the sob.

 _Yeah... A little while. We'll get out... I promise... I promise._

He turned the doorknob.

* * *

 **Game On (An optional addition)**

* * *

The computer screen glowed harshly in the darkened room. The lights had been turned off, and thick curtains blocked out any possibility of sunlight. Nearby, a bed lay against a wall, strewn with discarded clothes that the owner had been too lazy to pick up.

The Player set down their notepad and frowned at the screen. Figures moved within the machine, pixels constantly exchanging spots. The cooling fan whirred softly in the back of the computer.

An emptied cup was set gently onto the table. The Player rested their face on their hands and stared impatiently as the dialogue progressed.

Click.

A notification flashed across the screen, quickly dismissed. The dialogue finally stopped, and the Player was allowed full control of the avatar. A few experiments on the keyboard informed them all they needed to know about the controls.

The light from the computer screen lit up the Player's face eerily as they leaned forward and smiled a fanged grin. A new challenge had been presented. It must be met.

Game on.

* * *

 **I understand I'm late to the fandom. I couldn't help myself, I kinda fell in love with the HetaOni storyline. The game is just so well written, and the emotions... well, they were very well-expressed.**

 **Also, the continuation doesn't quite agree with me, so I'll try to make an ending of my own. I find it a little sad that the original creator couldn't finish it.**

 **Game On is just an optional addition that I felt like adding. You don't have to apply it to the main storyline. In fact, you don't even have to read it. It's just about a normal person playing HetaOni.**

 **I'll add a side crackfic next chapters because goddamn, I need a ray of light in this hellhole of tears and suicidal depression.**

 **-Nano**


	2. Evanescence

Chapter One: Evanescence

* * *

The hinges were surprisingly well oiled. The door swung open without protest.

Italy entered first, in a show of unexpected boldness. Germany and Prussia followed close at his heels, while Japan hung back near the door, dark eyes uncertain yet calculating as always.

Germany surveyed the interior of the house with a critical eye, a finger hooked into his belt where his whip hung. Motes of dust drifted through the patch of sunlight from the doorway, flung into the air by the passage of the opening door.

The rest of the house lay drenched in shadow. The atmosphere was thick. Still. Dead. Like nothing alive had been through the area for a millenia. Germany didn't like it one bit. It reminded him too much of the underground chambers they had in the Second World War. Blank eyes. Rusted metal. The darkness, with its armada of rats, screeching through the night, chewing, infecting. The cries of the wounded in the gloom. They lost more men to their own minds in the trenches than to the Allies.

"It's cleaner than I thought."

Germany started. He turned to find Italy scuffing his feet and looking down at the ground, frowning intensely at the floorboards. For once, he wasn't smiling. The frown looked all sorts of weird on the normally cheerful brunette's face.

Germany wanted... Actually, he wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to do. But he did want the frown off Italy's face. For some reason, it was bothering him to no end.

The thought was a sudden and unexpected one that caught him completely off guard. Since when did he ever bother himself so much with Italy's facial expressions? The brunette had a whole arsenal of them, the usage of which depended largely on the present company. Germany was sure there were a few unpleasant expressions Italy reserved for others which he had never had the misfortune to witness. Sometimes, Germany had noticed, Italy turned his face away when he was talking to France.

"Alright. We've seen it. We can go now." Germany said gruffly, breaking the silence.

Prussia gave a sharp, wolfish grin. "What's the matter, West? Are you scared?"

The albino's confident expression broke like an overloaded dam as a sudden noise came from the dimness beyond. Japan's hand darted to his katana. Italy latched onto Germany out of habit, but then just as suddenly, stepped away from him.

"We really should be going now." Germany glanced at Italy. The brunette in question caught his stare and returned it with a goofy grin that smacked of _whoops-I-packed-so-much-pasta-there-wasn't-any-space-left-for-a-gun._

Germany couldn't help but remember the time Italy had jumped him and refused to let go because he was being chased by a particularly vengeful magpie.

Japan stepped forwards, dark eyes flashing at the challenge. He was no longer young, but Nationhood was forever. The desire for dominance, the want to prove one's strength was ingrained in every fibre of each Nation. _You can be strong._ His subconsciousness whispered. _Show them. Show them how powerful you are. Make them admire you_.

He listened. He always listened. Though sometimes he didn't know what he was listening to, or why.

"This house has been abandoned for years. There should be no one here. I will go and check." He strode away down the darkened corridor, his white uniform gradually evanescing into the shadows.

"Be careful, Japan." Prussia murmured.

Japan paused for a moment, dim light blending shadows into the bright cloth.

" _Hai_."

Italy watched in silence as the darkness rose and engulfed the white figure.

* * *

At the end of the corridor was a spacious kitchen, dilapidated from neglect. Cracks spiderwebbed across the tiled floor. A thick layer of dust had settled heavily over every available surface, smothering the once-gleaming tiles.

Japan absentmindedly brushed a finger into the dust. It came away with a thin film of grave-ash grey. His mind whispered of another time, another place, another abandoned house, where he had done exactly the same thing. The house China had built for him so long ago, where he had taught him to live. Trained him to fight. Read to him. Cooked for him.

Betrayed by him.

He had returned there after the war, torn and confused, like a wounded animal seeking a safe place to lick his injuries. The house had been abandoned for a long, long time. Dust over the furniture. The scrolls. The cooking utensils China had so painstakingly cleaned after every meal. China had not visited once, even though Japan had been intruding on his territory. It was the coldness and the silence that finally forced him to leave. Japan would have preferred it had the former empire come raging at him for his infidelity, instead of the frozen indifference he had been treated with. Like he was just that much more dust in an abandoned house nobody even remembered.

Japan shivered involuntarily. This place had not seen living breath for at least half a century.

A small plate lay shattered on the tiles by the sink, disturbing the pattern in the layers of dust. Japan picked up the shards carefully. The breaks were clean and recent, as were the marks in the filth. He had no doubt this was what caused the noise that had so startled them in the hallway.

Japan couldn't help but wondering how it had fallen.

The back of his neck prickled like a gaze had settled there. Japan cast a glance behind him, residue wartime instincts snapping his hand to his weapon before his conscious mind had fully caught up with the current events.

The hallway was empty.

Japan released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. The house was getting to him. That, and all the memories. He needed to get out of this place before the sentimentality _really_ kicked in.

He slipped the remains of the plate into his pocket. His subconsciousness had told him it could come in useful later. After all, the edges _were_ quite sharp.

* * *

Upon reaching the hallway, Japan was greeted with a dismal sight. Or rather, the lack of one.

He observed dryly that the three nations previously there had contrived to utterly remove themselves from the scene before his arrival.

He walked around a little, making sure he made plenty of noise. Then he crept over to a flowerpot and lifted it up suddenly. There really was no telling the sort of spaces Italy could fit into. Sometimes Japan could swear the brunette existed in liquid state. That man could hide between a magnet and a fridge.

Italy did not appear from under the said flowerpot.

"I see." Japan said loudly, after a pause. "Did they leave, after all? How regrettable."

He waited a moment in silence. There was no answering ' _Ve_ '. Prussia failed to jump out at him and attempt to upend a keg of beer on his head.

Strange. They must have left, then. For some reason or another. Japan sighed through his nose. He would have expected Germany, at the very least, to stay. The blond's indefatigable sense of responsibility usually sternly forbade him from pulling out of a situation before everyone was present.

He made to exit the house. By now, Japan estimated they were probably waiting outside the door, barely holding in a gale of giggles as they prepared to jump him as soon as it opened. Japan, on the other hand, was planning to duck and let them introduce themselves to the ground. Preferably with their faces.

The door was locked.

Japan stared at it. Then he stared at it some more.

Oh. Well. This was a new one. He didn't see it coming. His first thought was that they'd staged the whole thing and locked him in the house for a joke, but then remembered Germany's presence, which usually discouraged such behaviour, often in a rather loud voice and with an expression like a mountain that was teetering on the edge of rockslide.

So something must have happened. Japan assumed they were still in the house. Maybe they had gotten curious, or impatient, or something had ... maybe something happened ... well, _something_ must have happened. They wouldn't have just left him in the house and locked the door if it wasn't for a joke.

...Right?

Right, Japan answered calmly, quashing the little voice and throwing it out of existence. That sort of thinking is not beneficial for your mental health. Leave it where it belongs.

He looked around him. There was a flight of stairs. A passage next to the stairs. The passage he just came from, which lead to the kitchen, and a passage going left from the door.

Westerners count from left to right, Japan remembered. He reasoned that if they had simply gone exploring, they would have started with the corridor to the left.

Left it was, then.

The sound of Japan's footsteps bounced off the walls and ricocheted around the place. An empty noise, in a sea of emptiness. The corridor was dark, but not so dark as to completely obscure the view.

 _Tap, tap, tap._

What were they thinking? Then again, they probably weren't. Running off by themselves like that could complicate things. They could have gotten lost, or separated. They might even have to sleep the night in the mansion if either happened, and Japan, while not as superstitious as, say, England, was far from elated at the prospect of spending hours in this place after dark. The place was fairly distanced from any kind of civilisation. There could be any number of undesirable persons hiding out here, especially under the cover of the darkness. And besides... the mansion felt _off_. Japan couldn't quite place it, but it just ... felt _off_ for some reason. Strange. And not altogetherly friendly.

 _Tap, tap-_

Japan jerked to a halt.

There was something in front of him.

In the dim light, he could faintly make out a large shape. Grey skin. Over proportioned head. A grotesque, almost _human_ -like body.

Whatever it was, it had its back turned to him.

Japan stilled. He slowed his breath, quietly guiding his hand to his sword, slipping smoothly into a stance that blended his presence into the background. A hunting stance.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the creature vanished.

Japan held still for a beat longer. Then, after he had ascertained that it was not going to come back, he eased out of his killer's stance. He kept his composure cool and collected, but the frantic beating of his heart betrayed him.

He did not try to deny what he just saw by putting it down to his imagination, however absurd it may have been. Over the harsh lectures of the centuries, he had learned to trust his eyes.

He would have hated to admit it, but he was not good with unexpected situations. He had never seen the likes of that... _thing_ before. His own ignorance unsettled him. He did not know whether it was hostile or not. He did not know its weaknesses. And thus, he did not have the upper hand.

Japan hated not having the upper hand. It made him feel vulnerable. Open to attack.

He should find his allies and get out of here as soon as possible.

Japan tried the door at the end of the hallway to discover it locked, without much surprise. Then he tried the door to the room on the right.

Surprisingly, it swung open without any resistance.

It was a bathroom. There was evidently no one in it. Nonetheless, Japan checked everything, more to steady his nerves than anything else.

He left the light switch alone to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

There was a mirror. Opaque, covered in dust. An ordinary toilet, though the appearance suggested it was an old model, likely from twenty to thirty years ago. A cabinet, containing with nothing but dust.

Japan closed the door quietly behind him. Yet more evidence that no one had so much as ventured there for years.

He wandered silently through the house for what seemed like hours, his sense of caution preventing him from calling out to his allies. He did not want to see the creature again.

Door after locked door. Japan was starting to grow frustrated at the lack of results when finally, his search bore fruit in the shape of Germany's whip.

It was lying on a double bed in one of the second-floor rooms in a disordered fashion, as if it had been dropped or thrown there in a hurry. Japan sighed, and tucked it into his belt. It seemed that once again, it had fallen to him to act as the lost property basket. He always seemed to be discovering Italy's jacket in random locations. It was particularly prone to misplacement after training.

A further survey of the room revealed that the nation in question was not, in fact, in the vicinity.

Japan exited the room and checked the one adjacent. Locked. He wondered idly why some of the rooms were locked while other were left accessible. Maybe the previous owners had to leave in a hurry.

Japan walked away quietly, making sure to make no sound so as not to attract attention. He searched up and down the mansion, finding yet more locked doors and dust.

One of the rooms was particularly large and had a grimy white curtain at the opposite end. Japan was just about to leave it be when the curtain, with sudden vivacity, gave a twitch. Followed by a _thump_ and a solid minute of muffled German expletives.

" _Germany_?"

The cussing abruptly cut out mid-sentence.

" _Japan?!_ "

The curtain flew open, sending a decade's accumulation of dust into the air. Japan covered his nose with a sleeve to avoid choking on it.

When the resulting dust storm finally cleared, an astounded uniformed blond stood looking at the Orient nation like he had just found a silver earring in his potato salad and wasn't sure whether he got really lucky or had just received an invitation to sue the restaurant.

" _Mein Gott-_ " He began.

"Are you-" Japan started to say at the same time.

They both stopped, waiting for the other to continue. When neither spoke, Germany gestured for Japan to finish.

"I was-" Japan stopped. _Worried? Annoyed?_ He wasn't sure. "Where are the others?" He asked instead.

A dark look crossed Germany's face. "I do not know. When the creature came, it took us by surprise. We just... broke apart. It was every man for himself after that." He looked away, seemingly ashamed. "Italy went one direction and Prussia went another. Italy dragged me part of the way. He was screaming something in my ear, and then he had disappeared and so had the monster."

He was shaking. Barely. But Japan was good at noticing the unnoticeable. It must be hard for him, Japan thought with a touch of pity. Playing the Leader all the time. Unable to show fear. Unable to show doubt. The subordinates relied on him to be adamantine, and being adamantine _wears_.

"Ah. I understand." Japan nodded. "If you don't mind staying here, I will look for the others. Besides," here he tried to adopt a gentler tone. "You look unsettled. I will get you something to drink." Sometimes it helped to be alone for a while. Germany would hate himself later if Japan did not give him time to compose himself before Prussia arrived on the scene to make fun of him.

Germany did not reply.

Japan stopped by the doorway. "I am sure they are fine." He paused to gauge Germany's reaction. There was none.

The trip back to the kitchen was uneventful. He did not find either the creature nor his allies, the former of which he was grateful for.

A brief search of the kitchen produced a dirty glass, which Japan washed and filled under a rusty tap. _Rainwater tank_ , a part of him noted reflexively. There was no other way the house could have maintained a working water supply. He wasn't sure why he noticed it. It did not seem like relevant information.

Japan walked back and offered the glass to Germany, who was sitting on the bed and staring blankly at a wall.

"Water?" He whispered hoarsely when Japan managed to grab his attention.

Japan nodded silently, pushing the glass into his hands. "Unfiltered, though."

Germany sighed and drank it without protest. "I apologize for my previous state." He set the glass down gingerly by the foot of the bed, as if afraid the slightest jolt would shatter it.

Japan shook his head. "No need. However, would you happen to know where the others may be at?"

"No." He sighed again. "All I know is that they went in completely different directions. And the creature went after Italy." A sudden movement made Japan shift his attention downwards. Germany's gloved hands had clenched into fists.

"I see. I will look for them."

"I'm coming." The bed creaked as Germany stood sending another cloud of dust into the air.

"No." Japan shook his head firmly. "We may get separated. And then we would have to look for each other all over again. Strategically, the quickest way, I think, is for me to gather them, as I have familiarized myself with the terrain more."

Germany agreed reluctantly. This was strategy, after all. Familiar ground.

"You might need this." Germany held out a hand. Something gleamed metallically in the center of his palm.

Japan took it. It was a small key, silver and slightly tarnished.

"I found it on my way here." Germany said by way of explanation.

"Thank you. I have no doubt I will need it. Oh-" Japan pulled Germany's whip from his belt and tossed it onto the bed. "-I found this in a bedroom I went into earlier."

Japan exited the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He silently listed down all the locked rooms he had discovered, crafting a map of the house as he knew it walk by wall, layer by layer. So, then, the nearest locked room would be-

- _take a left turn, down the stairs, walk right, go down the hall, soft steps, light breathing, don't let the monster hear you-_

Japan stopped in front of a plain wooden door. He had first discovered it locked, but now he had a key. He inserted it into the lock and gave it an experimental turn.

Aha.

The oil-starved hinges shrieked in protest as the door swung open with a painful slowness. Japan winced at the sound and cast a glance behind him surreptitiously to make sure nothing unsavory was in the vicinity. Then, he stepped swiftly into the room and locked the door behind him to prevent an attack from the back.

The room seemed to be a personal library of sorts. In the dim light, Japan made out the outlines of several shelves lurking in the dark at the far side of the room. The poor lighting was not doing wonders for his eyesight.

Japan felt along the walls. His fingers located an old-fashioned switch. With no small amount of relief, he proceeded to flip it.

Ancient light bulbs hissed and growled as they flared into life, bathing the room in a weak orange glow. To Japan's dark-trained, light-starved eyed, it was like a supernova.

Japan blinked and rubbed his eyes. The light took some getting used to, but it was a welcome asset. He didn't like spending long periods of time in the dark. Too many of his memories linked darkness with the screeching of warplanes, the silence of a murdered city. Strange how he used to love the night. Shadows unspooling from slender bamboo. The stars winking down from an almost nonexistent canopy. A soft voice reading to him by candlelight.

A large table sat before the shelves. Japan walked around it slowly, detached from the world. Until something small and white reached up and grabbed his attention.

A rice ball sat innocently on the table. Bemused, Japan reached over and picked it up.

The rice ball was cold, soft, and slightly sticky. And most certainly fresh.

Japan almost dropped it in surprise. He checked again to make sure. Yes, it was fresh. It must have been left there only recently.

The question was who, or rather, _what_ , had left it here?

Japan sniffed suddenly. The smell of mildew crept into his sinuses, drowning out any other scent that may have been present. A soft scraping sound came from behind him.

Japan instantly dropped his gaze to the ground, rice ball forgotten. He saw a massive shadow, pinned to the carpet by the orange light.

It wasn't his.

Japan stilled absolutely. For one moment, he ceased to breathe.

Then, out of the blue, he whipped around and screamed like it was the last thing he was ever going to do. The creature jolted backwards in surprise, its clawed hands swinging helter-skelter as it tried to regain its balance. Japan caught a flash of mottled grey skin, enormous sunken eyes in a pockmarked face, talons built for the purpose of ripping and tearing-

Making use of the creature's momentary distraction, Japan darted around the monstrous grey bulk in a sudden, fluid action and bolted for the door. Behind him, the... _thing_ shrieked in fury at having been cheated of its prey. Japan's breath almost caught in his throat. His lungs protested at the abrupt, unexpected change of action.

Heavy steps jolted the ground as it gave chase, making the wooden floorboards ring hollowly.

Japan remembered too late that he had left the door locked.

* * *

 **On a lighter note, I bring you:**

 **UselessOni (A HetaOni Parody)**

* * *

Japan stared.

Creepy music was playing from the other end of the hallway, which, as per the rules of fiction dictated, was enshrouded in darkness, mystery, and quite possibly either contained a murderous monster or England. On a good day, it was impossible to tell the difference between the two. On a bad day, there _was_ no difference.

Japan stepped back. The music faded a little. Japan stepped forwards. The music got louder.

He tried to walk away, and got no further than half a dozen steps before he ran up against a barrier.

 _(Hmm... there must be something I'm missing)_

No, there wasn't. There really wasn't.

He walked back resignedly and turned around on the spot. "What can _possibly_ go wrong?" He said loudly.

Nothing happened. He did not immediately expire from an attack of fictitious expectation.

"What could _possibly go wrong?_ " He said, this time even louder.

Nothing dropped screeching from the ceiling to have him for dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast, whatever time of the day it was.

Well, then. Japan approached the source of the music. If _that_ failed to get him horribly and gruesomely murdered, then he could probably assume he had Plot Armour, a mystery phenomenon which happened fairly often in dark and ominous corridors where homicidal monsters were probably planning to eat him.

(Cue creepy music)

He walked confidently down the hallway, to be greeted by the sight of-

Large buttocks.

Japan shrieked.

(Cue creepy music)

 _Splat._

 _Game Over_

Italy screamed something incomprehensible when he saw the words pop up on his diary. It roughly translated to : _"Goddammit Japan! Who the fuck survives two thousand years of war and death and dies from a bloody pair of buttocks, HUH?! Timeline reset AGAIN FUCK ME AAARRRRGGGGHHH!"_

(Cue creepy music)

* * *

"Is that... really water?" Germany eyed the glass doubtfully.

Japan peered at it. "Judging by the colour... Probably."

Germany shrugged and accepted the glass. He downed it in one swig.

"I mean, the stuff you find in toilet bowls in usually water, right?"

Germany sprayed liquid all over the wall.

Japan scrutinised it, and then nodded in satisfaction. "Yes, it's definitely water."

* * *

 **A/N: Some of the references may be confusing if you haven't watched or played the game.**


	3. Submerge

Chapter 3 : Submerge

* * *

The summit ended in its usual bout of fisticuffs and catastrophic explosions of vivacious British cursing so violent that the Devil himself, if indeed He was present, would have crawled away mewling whilst bleeding from both ears. As soon as the meeting adjourned, America had leapt onto the podium and begun to loudly advertise his newest superhero movie, which resulted in most of the other nations quietly evacuating the building. Those who knew what was coming next, that was.

Australia carefully positioned a camera behind his flag and threw a mischievous wink at Canada. "Don't tell 'em 'bout it, eh? I've been gettin' real popular on YouTube lately. Come on, Zee. Oceania out!" He grinned and proceeded to drag New Zealand away from the brewing chaos.

Canada situated himself in a relatively safe corner and watched the ensuing chaos with interest. Russia's attempted kidnap of China ended in disaster, as France and England, in a rare act of coordination, had contrived to throw America off the podium and send him sailing across the room like a stray popcorn out of a dysfunctional microwave. By 'sheer luck', the haphazard Superman trajectory resulted in America 'accidentally' slide-tackling Russia to the ground whilst China made good his escape.

And thus anarchy reigned.

Canada squinted down at the groaning pile of bodies that had been the inevitable result. He checked his watch. Surprisingly, this one had only lasted seventeen minutes. Almost broke a record there. He supposed it may have been due to the fact China had scarpered early. His well-intentioned attempts to pacify the brawling Nations with food usually simply moved the arguments onto _who_ got _which_ dumpling instead.

" _Who?_ " Kumasake chose to pipe up at this moment.

" _Canada_." Canada sighed.

America lay trapped at the bottom of the pile, his knee sticking out at an awkward angle in the vicinity of Russia's groin area. France had gotten himself into a rather undesirable situation, with a hamburger stuffed down his collar and England's boot in his mouth, which Canada did not question even for one moment whether it was left there intentionally. England had ended up sandwiched between America's back and France's legs and inexplicably entangled in Russia's scarf, the owner of the said garment earnestly proposing "Become one, da?" but stopping abruptly when America pointedly reminded him where his knee was.

China peeked out from behind the door. " _Wei, guizi_. You done yet?"

"Stop calling us that." England grumbled, voice partially muffled by Russia's scarf covering his mouth.

America tried to crane his head so he could get a better view but gave up when he got no further than England's shoulder. "Call us what? What did he say?"

" _Gghmmmff!_ " France mumbled around England's boot.

A stream of expletives spewed from England's mouth when France moved his knee into his abdomen. " _Stop it_ , you bloody wanker. _Guizi_ is what they call Westerners in - _oof."_ France moved his knee again and England gave a sharp shove with his foot in retaliation. "- China. It means - _Sod_ _off, frog!_ \- it means ghost, or monster in Chinese."

" _Hhfff._ " France affirmed, squirming a little.

America pouted childishly. "That's not very nice."

China crossed his arms. "The Opium Wars were not very nice. Yuan Min Yuan was not very nice."

England groaned. "Still? Your memory is too good. And besides, I distinctly recall your empress's little declaration-"

"Dude! Dude!" America piped up suddenly, cutting England off before he could finish. "On the subject of ghosts, I heard there was this haunted house like, two or three hours from here! We could totally go there for the afternoon and be back before dinner!"

America's U-turn of subject left everyone reeling in its wake. England, ever the supernaturalist, was the first to recover.

"Haunted house?" He looked up with considerable interest. "That should be interesting. More so than an afternoon of paperwork, anyway."

Russia hummed happily. "Sounds fun." He said in an almost sing-song voice. He looked at China with wide purple eyes. "You will come, da?"

China didn't react. "Maybe."

America beamed. "So that's settled then? We're all going?"

" _Hhgggff!_ " France protested. England viciously applied pressure with his boot until he started nodding rapidly out of desperation.

"Settled." England smiled like a shark.

" _Gnnnff!_ " France said pointedly, waving an elbow. " _Gnnff! Hnffhmmffhggff!"_

All eyes turned to where France was indicating. Canada found himself at the center of attention for the first time in centuries. It was rather disconcerting. He found himself shrinking backwards into his seat.

"So, dude..." America began. "Are you gonna come, or what? Please come." He added, widening his eyes in an effort to appear earnest. "It'd be no fun without my bro, y'know?"

Canada bit his lip. He didn't particularly want to explore a haunted house with a group of people who forgot his existence on a regular basis, but then there was France, who had always been kind to him (if you didn't particularly mind his strange habits, which included a regular absence of clothing), never overlooked him, never forgot about him...

"Canada?" England prodded gently.

Not just France, then. England too. He was nice when you didn't _dump his tea in the harbour_. And America wasn't always so bad, he supposed. And when they all looked at him like _that_ , well, he couldn't just refuse. Not when he had gone unnoticed for so long.

"I'll come." He said in a small voice.

America gave a huge grin. "Right!" He declared. "Let's-" He tried to free himself from the pile and failed spectacularly when France's elbow clocked him between the eyes. He fell back to the floor dispiritedly and looked out at Canada and China with eyes that Nature must have intended to give a newly born puppy.

"Er... Can you get us out?"

* * *

He had locked the door.

 _He had locked the door_.

The _thing_ was still coming, and Japan had nowhere to go. By choosing to run in this particular direction, Japan had effectively trapped himself between a murderous monster and a door he had locked himself. There wasn't enough space left to manoeuvre out of. Nowhere else to go.

 _Thud. Thud_.

Japan stopped just before he collided with the door. It was catching up. It _had_ caught up. Japan could feel its presence, its claws clicking against each other as they moved-

It had been pure reflex. No thought, just instinct.

Japan turned and struck in a single fluid movement. Steel flashed like the scales of a striking viper. The sword jumped in his hand as the steel blade met with a brief resistance, and then sliced into empty air.

The creature's head came off in a blur of grey, and hit the ground rolling with a hollow _thud_ that shook the whole room. The body rocked for a moment, bereft of direction, and then slowly started to topple.

Japan leapt clear of the falling corpse and turned just in time to see the last hint of grey vanish into the air without a sound.

Silence reigned.

After a minute of absolute stillness, Japan unfroze from his crouch and stood. He scanned the wooden floor and checked the ceiling. There was no sign of the monster. No blood from the fatal wound. No marks in the dust where it had tread. It was as if it had simply never existed. It was certainly no longer in this room.

Japan sheathed his sword and allowed himself a sigh. Well, at least he now knew it was just as susceptible to death as another mortal man. He could deal with that. He was _good_ at death. To the point that no one could ever prove it. You usually needed a head and a functional heart to testify verbally.

He should be going. This room had been a waste of time. There was obviously nobody here except himself, now that the.. _thing_ , whatever it was, was gone. Nobody alive, anyway.

Something glinted on the ground, brightness among the layers of dust. Japan stooped and plucked it up.

It was a small silver key. Japan dropped it into a pocket, but just as he was about to leave the room for good, another glint caught his eye.

A second key lay on the wooden boards, just a few steps away from the first. Japan pocketed that as well, and then wondered where it came from. Maybe the monster dropped it.

That led him down another path of thought. Maybe the monster _was_ the key. An enchanted one. Maybe all he had to do was to kill a lot of monsters, maybe one of them was the key to the entrance door-

Japan shook his head. Too many hours with a gaming console. He was starting to think in video games.

The floorboards _creak_ ed.

Japan quietly unlocked the doors and opened it wide. Then he risked a look behind him.

The weak amber bulbs cast just enough light to illuminate a grey bulk amongst the shelves at the far end of the room. A strong smell of mildew wafted to the door.

This time, Japan didn't take his chances. He turned and ran, slamming the door behind him as he went.

* * *

The second encounter was in a bathroom. The room behind the door he had previously seen the creature vanish in front of.

He drew his sword before he opened the door, careful to not make any noises that may warn possible enemies of his presence. Then, he turned the door handle slowly and suddenly thrust it open with such force that the door hit the wall with a _bang_.

That should deliver a sufficient shock to whatever was hiding in there and distract them long enough for him to find a light switch.

Japan's fingers scrabbled on the wall for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably only a matter of seconds. He pressed down hard when he finally found it.

True to his expectations, the sudden light exposed the _thing_ , reeling from the brightness near the far side of the room. Japan barely had the time to note that he was in a bathroom before he dived under a set of homicidally sharp claws swinging in his direction.

Japan rolled to a stop and sprang to his feet, blade flashing outwards mid-jump. The monster howled as a clawed hand bounced away along the tiles, holding its wounded stump close to its torso.

An opening. Japan attacked.

His sword swept low in a wide arc. There was a sickening _thwick_ , and the creature's legs came loose from knee down. A flailing claw caught Japan in the side and knocked him off-balance for a brief moment. Gritting his teeth, Japan twisted his shoulders to temporarily correct his balance and lunged.

 _Thwick_ _. Thud._

Japan hit the floor with his left shoulder and rolled, stopping just before he hit a wall. Cursing for the lack of space, he wiped his sword on a moth-eaten towel out of habit, even though there was nothing on it. The creature didn't seem to bleed.

The last part of the creature to dissipate was its severed head, huge sunken eyes staring emptily at him in silent mockery. Japan shuddered as the apparition faded away. It didn't bleed. It died but it didn't bleed. Or was it dead? Where did it go after it disappeared? Was this creature the very one he had decapitated back in the library? If it was... then where was it _right now_?

The lights went out without warning.

Japan dropped into a crouch and froze, desperately listening for footsteps, movement, _anything_. He had to move first. Kill it before it killed him. Where was it? Was it in front of him? Behind him? Preparing the kill strike _right now,_ as Japan stayed rooted in place, trapped by his blindness, desperately struggling to adjust his eyes to the darkness?

A heart-stopping minute later, the lights flickered back on with a hiss. The creature was nowhere in sight.

Japan sheathed his sword, heart hammering a hole into his ribcage. The blade rattled into its sheath, and he realized his hand was shaking. He took a minute to steady his breathing, adjust his belt, wash his hands under the tarnished tap. Insignificant, mundane actions to take his mind out of reality for a brief moment and immerse himself in routine.

Japan noticed another key on a nearby stand. They _did_ seem to be cropping up whenever the monster did. Coincidence or no? He filed it away for later examination.

He dried his hands on his uniform and pocketed the key. The towels in this place could make a sandstorm look clean. Forget sandstorms, it would make _Italy's_ house look like the epitome of hygiene.

 _Italy._

Japan's breath caught. The shock of the creature's sudden appearance had temporarily erased all thoughts of his allies. He already knew where Germany was. He was safe enough.

Prussia... now Prussia should be fine by himself. He had a tendency to end up in prison after heavy drink. And when Germany came to pick him up, he would invariably find Prussia singing drunkenly in one corner, and the terrified inmates cowering in another. Even the formidable German police force had left a considerable amount of space between themselves and the cell. The local police had resorted to throwing him in with serial killers and terrorists. Germany never saw any murderers or terrorists. By the time he came, all he ever found were a bunch of newly converted praying to Our Saviour to stop this drunken gentleman, pretty please, before he strangles us with our own pants for shits and giggles.

And failing that, Prussia had a giant claymore. It usually did the job.

No. It was Italy he worried for. Italy, who lived a life filled with warm kitchens full of chatter and laughter, riverside nights with pretty girls and dancing stars. Italy, who ran from swooping magpies and cried when he first heard the bombs dropping in Berlin.

He was fast. But how fast? Fast enough to outrun the monsters? Fast enough to outrun _death_?

Japan had to find Italy before the monsters did.

He didn't want to betray another ally.

* * *

Approximately twenty minutes later, Japan finally found the door that responded to the new key. He turned the key soundlessly in its lock and opened it in silence, once again careful not to make any noise.

The lights were on in this room.

Japan went in. The first thing he noticed was Prussia at the far end of the room, huddled into a narrow space between two beds and muttering incoherently at the wall in German.

Japan shut the door quietly and upon further thought, locked it behind him. Prussia was so immersed in his private tirade that he didn't seem to notice. His sword clanked as he shifted slightly, cursing in his native language.

Japan walked up behind him. "Prussia-san-"

A swinging claymore cut off the rest of his sentence. With a yell, Prussia turned and slashed wildly, red eyes fixed on a point some distance over Japan's head.

Japan's quick reflexes managed to save him from being diced like a carrot in the nick of time.

He skipped backwards, instinct bringing his hand to his sword before he remembered where he was and forcibly lowered it. Prussia was still looking blankly over his head, not seeming to notice Japan himself at all. His left hand, the one holding the sword, shook like kite tails in the wind.

The thousand mile stare. Japan spotted it almost straight away.

"It's me." Japan said quietly, bringing his hands up slowly to show he held no weapons. "Japan. Your ally, remember?" He tried to make his voice as soothing as possible, though gods knew he never excelled at such things. He was better at breaking people than mending them, and he would be the first to admit it.

Japan had always been honest, at least to himself. China had scolded all the lying out of him at an early age.

He shouldn't have worried. Soothing or no, his voice seemed to have done the trick. Prussia blinked, and then lowered his gaze to refocus on Japan.

"Oh, Japan." He laughed in embarrassment, sheepishly sheathing his claymore. "Sorry about... that. _Mein Gott_ , I thought you were that... _thing_ , coming in all silent like that." He shuddered. " _Mein Gott,_ " He repeated. "It looked like something England would pull out of an oven. After about half a century of forgetting about it, I'd say."

"Ah." Japan looked around the room. The furniture were all still in perfect order. It looked like the creature hadn't yet thought to pay a visit.

"It was stark naked, I tell you." Prussia continued. "And it _did_ have the colour of a rotten scone. I think Brows is trying to pay us back for Blitzkrieg. I certainly wouldn't put it past him, the loony douchemonger. I'm going to make him paddle across the Atlantic in a bathtub with his underpants on his head when this it over. Anyway-" Prussia stopped his tirade to take a much-needed breath.

Japan nodded encouragingly at him. Well, he hoped it looked encouraging.

"- When the Cement Alien monster turned up Italy kinda started shrieking at it and one moment he was trying to club it to death with this book he had, and the next moment he had Germany by the collar - _Germany_ , of all people - I think he was trying to drag him away from it, and _Gott_ , he had a shocking amount of success considering the difference in mass between those two. And then the monster sort of blocked my view from them and when I looked back, both had vanished. _Poof_. And I think that was when I decided to scram."

Prussia took a deep breath when he finally stopped. "Ah... Am I making sense?"

Japan nodded. "Yes, quite." He reassured. "I saw it too."

Prussia cursed softly. "What the Awesome Me _was_ that thing? And-" His eyes met Japan's for a brief moment and although Prussia projected an outward look of indifference, a flicker of red, a momentary movement of the eyelids allowed Japan to glean the slightest hint of panic.

" _-What happened to the others?_ "

Japan decided to mentally edit out the 'Awesome Me' part to make better sense of the sentence. "Germany is on this floor. He's in one of the bedrooms. But Italy-" A small flash of fear ignited in his chest. What if something had happened to him? Was he _really_ fast enough? He can't break another treaty. He can't.

He would never forgive himself for breaking a third promise.

"- I have not yet managed to locate Italy."

Prussia cursed some more. Louder this time. Japan winced. Although he didn't understand much German, the bits that he did made him want to pour sanitizer in his ears.

"Right. Italy MIA. I'm coming with you to find that little scamp. And if Stabby Steven has so much as snipped his hair-"

Prussia stopped suddenly. A look of intense concentration crossed his face as he tipped his head to the side as if listening for something.

"What's the matter?" Japan inquired.

"Don't you hear it?"

Japan listened. He didn't _hear_ it so much as _feel_ it. Slight vibrations that didn't quite reach his ears but found their way through the floor and the sole of his boots.

"Hey, Japan..."

Japan flashed him a questioning look.

"If that thing on your waist isn't just for show, then pull it out of its damned sheath. I have a feeling we're gonna need it." Prussia's claymore was already in his hand, the artistically tarnished metal gleaming hungrily in the dim light. The same light reflected off Prussia's ruby eyes. It had been a long time since he last made a kill, up close and personal.

Japan nodded and unsheathed his katana.

Something rattled the doorknob. Prussia glanced at Japan and put a finger to his lips, then motioning with one hand for Japan to take up a position in a corner behind the other side of the door, while Prussia himself slowly moved to the opposite corner. Japan concurred silently.

Pincer movement, he remembered. Whatever came through the door would be caught like a stem between the closing blades of a secateur.

The door stopped rattling. The pair waited for a few frozen moments for something to happen, but nothing did.

Prussia swore under his breath. " _Verdammt_... Do you think the thing is gone?" He whispered furiously over the condensing silence.

Japan shook his head silently.

"Me neither. But while we sit here and chew our fingernails, the _Arschgeige_ could be running Italy down. We don't have a choice. _Scheiss_ , they're getting smarter."

Japan had to agree.

Prussia scowled darkly. "I'm going to open that door." He hissed. "And the moment I do, I'm going to step back, and you're going to dice the bastard like a plate of sushi. Got that?"

"You don't want a swing?" Japan tilted his head with a smile, fully understanding Prussia's nature.

Prussia smiled back nastily. "I'll see what I can do about it. Until then, it's all yours."

Japan tossed Prussia the key he had used to lock the door. Prussia deftly snatched it out of the air, inserted it carefully into the lock, and turned.

As soon as the key had turned full circle, Prussia threw open the door with one quick flick of the wrist and jumped back, just in time to avoid being skewered by a pair of stabbing claws.

Japan charged.

He slipped under a swinging grey arm and sliced for the creature's torso, succeeding in creating a long jagged slash from its chest to its stomach before being forced back by the flailing claws. Then Prussia was in front of him, swinging his sword wildly and unleashing an old German war cry. As soon as Prussia backed away, Japan stepped up to take his place. They slashed and sliced in turns, when one stepped down the other would immediately fill their place, the limited space and the bulk of the monster dismissing any notion of surrounding it.

Prussia dealt the final blow, neatly cleaving the creature in half with a well-placed strike. The creature blinked once as its lower half became separated from hip down, and almost immediately dissolved into thin air. As always, there was no blood.

They took a moment to catch their breath.

Prussia smirked. "Just like the old days, huh? When you had to look your enemy in the eyes when you pulled your sword out of their gut. Nothing like the youngsters these days, with those newfangled guns of theirs. You can never truly appreciate what you take from a distance." He sighed, wiping specks of imaginary dust off his claymore. "That's why they've got all that trouble with murderers. They can't really _feel_ what they've actually done, so they keep on doing it. It's not so different from a video game, from that distance."

Japan looked over to Prussia, with some vestige of concern. The albino faced away from him, his posture stoic and unyielding as always, but Japan thought he detected something running underneath his tone. Wistfulness? Nostalgia? It had none of his usual boisterous clamour, that was for sure.

"If you like, I can take you to where Germany is." Japan offered quietly. It seemed to be the best option for the time being. If he could not find Italy, he can at least take Prussia to Germany. It should be able to put his mind more at ease. He couldn't afford to have a team member who was too distressed to fight with his usual vigour.

" _Ja_." Prussia muttered. "I will have to make sure West hasn't fainted from shock and given himself a concussion. Ah, the burdens of an older brother." He trailed Japan out the door, sighing to himself.

* * *

Japan showed Prussia into the room Germany was currently occupying, and locked the door behind them in order to forestall any unfortunate surprises. He took a look around the room and immediately started to doubt his memory. Looking at the steel door at the far end of the room where the moldy curtain had sat previously, Japan began to suspect he had gotten the wrong room by mistake.

Prussia, however, had no such fears. Strolling up to the silver door, he rapped on it loudly and shouted : " _Ey_ , West! You alive in there? Haven't walked into any walls and knocked yourself out, have you?"

There was a period of silence. Then-

" _Preussen_?"

The steel door clanged open. Germany stumbled out from the dark recesses of whatever was in there, blinking from the sudden light. He almost smiled when he saw Japan with his brother, who was somehow managing to swagger on the spot. Then his expression cooled as he also noticed the absence of Italy.

"Japan?" He inquired. "Where is Italy?"

Prussia sighed, strode up to his brother, and proceeded to lock him into a 'manly' one-armed hug. "Aw, I missed you too, _bruder_." He beamed, ruffling Germany's perfectly gelled hair as the younger of the two struggled to break free.

Germany managed to extricate himself and scowled as he smoothed down his hair. He shot his brother an exasperated glance, which bounced off harmlessly when met with Prussia's invincible buffoonish grin.

"Italy is still missing." Japan said regretfully.

Prussia's smile fell like a man who had gone hangliding without a hang glider. " _Ja_." He said solemnly. Then he managed to work up his grin again. "Don't worry, West! I'm sure Italy will have the _Flatschwischer_ eating his dust. Meanwhile, the Awesome Me will swoop in and make concrete schnitzels out of the lot of them!"

Japan breathed in deeply. He had a mild suspicion what he was going to say next was not going to go down well.

"Actually... I'd like the both of you to stay right here."

Two pairs of eyes snapped to attention and stared at him like he'd slapped them with a fish.

" _Was?!_ "

* * *

 **UselessOni**

* * *

"Germany!" Japan strode heroically into the room and struck a pose.

(Dramatic music)

A clacking noise came from behind a dusty curtain in a corner of the room. Germany walked out, holding a script in one hand and waving a plastic clappy hands toy in the other, which was what was producing the clacking noise. His expression was so dead the mummy of Tutankhamun was probably haunted by it.

"Are you-"

Clackclackclack.

Japan tried again.

"I have-"

Clackclackclack.

"Oh, good grief!"

The look on Germany's face was the envy of pancakes all around the world. "I'm just following the script." He stated flatly, giving the clappy hands a little wave.

Clackclackclack.

"You're supposed to do it with your _teeth_!"

Germany clacked sardonically, with an air that suggested it wasn't going to happen any time in between this century and the next.

"Well, don't interrupt me in the middle of _my_ lines!"

Germany gave a blank, wooden stare and clacked insouciantly.

"... You're giving me the silent treatment, aren't you?"

Clackclackclack.

* * *

"There was a monster! A stark naked giant- _keseseseSESESESE_!"

Japan facepalmed.

"The colour of - _kesese-_ rotten - _haha - scones_ -."

Prussia howled with laughter.

Japan motioned at the cameraman to 'cut'.

" _KESESESESESESESE!"_

Japan looked over at the hulking grey monster in the doorway with a loudspeaker strapped to its back, loudly playing creepy music. The creature shrugged and proceeded to turn away from the farce.

(Cue creepy music)

"yOu wONt EsCApe?" It suggested.

"- _keseSESESESESE!_ "

Japan facepalmed. "This is not going to work in the slightest." He bemoaned.

"dIE." It agreed.

(Cue creepy music)

* * *

 **Yeah, I found the Germanics a bit out of character in this bit, as you can clearly tell.**


	4. Recall

Chapter 4: Recall

* * *

Following Japan's statement, the Germanic nations proceeded to act accordingly.

Prussia stared, dumbfounded, while Germany seemed to exhale a jet of steam from his nose.

" _Nein!_ " They both shouted simultaneously.

"What do you mean-" Germany began furiously, as at the same time Prussia protested : "But you'll need my awesome skills to-"

Japan held up a hand apologetically. "Please listen to what I have to say." He said quietly. "If any of us get separated - and believe me, that situation is _highly likely_ if we are to venture out together - then we would have wasted our time tracking everyone down. I believe we are in agreement that we should not stay in this place longer than necessary?" He received a reluctant affirmative from the brothers. "Moreover, in terms of physical speed, I am somewhat faster than the both of you. Therefore, should I chance upon this creature, I have more chance of getting away without having to spend valuable time and energy on engaging in battle."

Both Germanic nations stared at him until he developed a sudden desire to shrink into the wall.

Then Prussia flopped onto the bed with a gusty sigh, causing a cloud of dust to escape into the air. "Weeeell..." He drawled, dragging the word out like gum stuck between a parting pair of tongs. "I suppose he has a point... though I feel the height of unawesomness letting him out alone." He smirked at Japan. "Hey, y' know, you start talking really formally when you're stating an argument? It's like you're trying to verbally write an essay on the spot."

Japan did not know that. He supposed it was a result of hours spent with a shockingly patient England on the subject of English rhetorics in the beginnings of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance.

He turned his gaze downward. Another ally betrayed.

Germany was still protesting. "- wouldn't it be better if-"

" _Nein nein nein nein nein nein nein_." Prussia sang with hands over his ears, effectively blocking out all attempts at persuasion from Germany. "I think I'm with Japan on this one. We'd see little Italy safe and whining much quicker this way, _nein_? Besides-"

Japan smiled briefly. Another thing about Prussia; while he was nigh on impossible to reason with, once he was convinced, he was going to _stay_ that way no matter what. And he was one of those people who wouldn't balk at kidnapping a government or two to get his way.

"-and you can even tie his shoelaces for him, baby brother." Prussia finished cheerfully. Germany shot him a chilling stare, huffed, and sat down on the bed as well.

"... _Ja._ " Germany agreed reluctantly, blue eyes troubled. His brows furrowed as he looked back at Japan. "Be quick, soldier. And don't die."

Japan smiled faintly. He used to say that sort of thing all the time during the war. It gave Japan a sense of deja vu. What was it that the Westerners say? Ah, yes, 'a trip down the memory lane', wasn't it?

He snapped a salute. "Yes, Captain."

Germany waved him off dismissively, seemingly uninterested. But Japan could feel his eyes boring into his back every step of the way to the door.

* * *

It had been barely an hour on the road when disaster reared its ugly head, gave a nasty leer, and struck.

Canada found a relatively pleasant patch of grass and sat down to watch the proceedings. He was surprised it had taken this long. He had begun to develop a queer feeling of unease when the first fifteen minutes had passed and nobody had 'accidentally' punched, kicked, steel-piped or hexed anybody.

Alas, that state of peace was not destined for a long life. Canada almost felt relieved when the first punch went flying through the air to connect violently with an unprotected jaw.

Somewhere past the one hour mark, France had 'accidently' shoved England into a bush, claiming his green uniform blended in so well he had not seen him there. America apparently found this highly amusing, as he started to laugh hysterically in the background. Then England had gotten up and 'accidentally' kneed France in the nether regions and punched America in the jaw as he 'tripped', citing disorientation from his brief union with a bush as the cause.

America, reeling from the backlash of England's fist to his jaw, had coincidentally fallen into Russia with such force that the taller nation had been bowled over.

Chaos ensued.

China seated himself next to Canada and pushed a wicker basket toward him. "Have a dumpling.".

Canada accepted with thanks.

"I still can't believe we won the war, aru." China commented absently.

"Mm." Canada agreed through a mouthful.

" _Who_?" Kumanio murmured sleepily as he awoke briefly at the smell of the dumplings.

"Canada." Canada offered him a part of his dumpling, which was devoured in seconds.

They sat and watched the show in companionable silence from then on.

When the brawling nations finally declared a ceasefire out of sheer exhaustion, the combatants trudged wearily from the battlefield and helped themselves to the offered refreshments. England had gotten away with just a black eye and a bitten tongue, while Russia bore coloured patches all around his face. France, for some reason or another, had a constant stream of miniature rose petals falling out of his left nostril, while America found himself speaking in fluent Hippopotamus. England looked mightily pleased with himself at that, although he was muttering something under his breath about not being able to hit France with an eternity of physical amphibianhood, more's the pity. All combatants bore bruises bearing striking similarities to a certain steel pipe.

China hopped to his feet and began to berate the crestfallen nations roundly, then with an air of exasperation, proceeded to massage the fallen warriors with such vengeance that the screams must have travelled halfway to the moon. The one good thing about that being it gave the warring nations a common subject to complain about, thus preventing any further infighting.

Canada sighed through his nose. Once again, he had been consigned to the background. He was starting to regret going along with the whole idea. Haunted mansion? Count him out. Canada had never really gotten into the whole thrill-seeking business anyway.

... Oh dear, they had now begun a massive free-for-all food fight. There goes America's burger down England's top. Seriously, Canada was beginning to suspect America had actually managed to invent inflatable burgers. That was the only plausible reason he could keep pulling them out of what seemed like thin air.

" _Who?"_ Kumanhar murmured.

"Canada." Canada sighed for the umpteenth time.

It was in that moment China finally flew off his rocker with incredible vehemence, bringing chaos and immense pain to all battling miscreants at the scene. He always was prickly when it came to his food. The admittedly diminutive superpower went flying into the fray with his infamous wok, screaming obscenities that were fortunately in Chinese and therefore incomprehensible to Canada. China then promptly made short work of the whole mess with the help of extreme violence and consecutive blows to multiple unfortunate noggins.

"I am _sick_ of your bickering and clumsiness, aru!" China yelled at the subdued nations. "Sheesh, you Westerners can't even walk without tripping over each other's feet! And punching each other in the face! How did your civilizations even survive past the first century, aru?! Wouldn't your whole populations have 'accidentally' walked off a waterfall?!"

Canada shuddered. The Chinese accent, which had been previously lurking behind the curtains without ever showing a trace of its existence, had stormed onstage with a vengeance. The berated nations hung their heads in shame. They knew the signs; the Accent and the Aru, which were slowly growing in strength. They were not good signs.

Russia slunk behind the other cowering nations and pasted a look of puppy-eyed repentance on his face in an effort to escape the oncoming fury. It didn't work.

"Onwards march!" China was shouting, waving his wok threateningly. "No punching! No kicking! No 'accidentally' hitting others people with a steel pipe! And _definitely_ no hexing!" A look of pure acid was thrown at an unsuspecting England, who sputtered in outrage at the accusation.

"Don't pretend to be innocent, _Angleterre_." France snorted through a nostril of falling rose petals. "And I would like it if you were to take this spell off. It is very irritating."

" _Hrunngghh_." America agreed in fluent Hippopotamus.

England pretended to start a conversation with his invisible flying Mint Bunny, ignoring the two suffering nations completely.

"China-" France turned to him with a pleading look on his face and a deluge of petals pouring out of his nostril.

"No." China snapped. "Don't talk to me, aru. You'll trip over your feet and 'accidentally' elbow England in the face, aru."

He sent a vicious glare at a honking America. "What are you snickering at, aru? Keep walking!" He waved his wok threateningly in emphasis.

"Yes, mother." England muttered out of the corner of his mouth, which earned him a firm smack to the back of his head.

For once, Canada was glad to be forgotten about.

* * *

Japan prowled through the darkened corridors, dark eyes alert for any sign of life. Or death, if it came to that. He quashed the thought immediately. It was silly, thinking that way, he chided himself. Nations didn't just _die_. Last he checked, Italy was functioning fine, if not a little haphazardly.

The gloom clouded his view. Visibility was low. Japan switched to his other senses smoothly, almost without thinking.

Up the stairs. Down the stairs. Japan added each new step he took to the map in his head, taking care not to lose his position.

He marked and double checked his position in front of a door he had not previously explored. Japan closed his eyes and listened for any sign of movement that could suggest the presence of his missing ally. Or if it came to it, the creature.

The absence of noise suggested the absence of either.

Japan tugged open the door and flipped the light switch as soon as he found it. It was a small room, covered in layers of dust. A rickety bookshelf clung stubbornly to existance against a wall. There was a large lever in a corner.

Out of curiosity, Japan crossed over to the lever. There was a sign next to it, the words erased by an accumulation of dust. He wiped it away with a finger, careful not to let the falling dust stain his white uniform.

 _Up is Heaven,_

 _Middle is Earth,_

 _Down is Hell._

Japan wondered briefly whether it was a puzzle left deliberately by the owner of the mansion. And if so, why. Perhaps it was some kind of party trick, or held some sort of special meaning.

He probably wasn't going to Heaven. None of them were - well, except maybe Sealand. And the lever was resting on 'Earth' anyway. So...

Experimentally, Japan tugged the lever downwards.

The lever made a heavy _thunk_ as it moved. A groan came from behind him. Japan spun around, sword already drawn, just in time to witness the bookshelf grating into place.

Where the shelf had sat previously, a ragged hole in the floorboards yawned into the darkness. There had once been a trapdoor there, but over the years it had wore at it mercilessly until the hinges had finally given way to the passage of time and fell, taking with it parts of the already weakened wood.

Japan peered down into the hole, sword at hand. The stuttering light from the ancient light bulbs managed to illuminate the side of a pale shape in the room below. Otherwise, everything was enshrouded in murky darkness.

There was no sign of either Italy or the creature below. Japan turned back to the lever with a frown. With a swift yank, he forced it upwards.

The lever broke when it reached 'Earth'. Something clattered onto the floorboards.

Japan spotted a silver glint in the dust. He picked up the key. It was something, at least. Though he wondered what would have happened if he had turned the lever to 'Heaven'. There was nothing to do about it now, of course. The lever had broken beyond use.

Approaching the gap in the floor, he knelt down and peered into the room below. There was nothing there save the pale, lifeless shape he had seen before, that lay just beyond the edge of his vision. Japan gripped tightly onto the jagged edges of the floorboards and leaned over to try and see further into the room.

The wood beneath him gave a faint _creeak,_ and that was all the warning he got before the ground splintered beneath him and plunged him into the gloom.

Japan's instincts landed him on his feet with barely a sound, despite the fact his eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the dark. He dragged his hand along the wall, patting desperately for the light switch. When he finally found it, he turned the lights on and released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

The humming and crackling of ancient light bulbs stirred from their slumber were music to his ears. Japan used his newly regained sight to scan the room quickly for monsters. There were none.

The piano lay beneath its white protective cover, dominating the center of the room. Japan approached it cautiously and slowly removed the white cloth, careful not to raise the dust that had settled on it.

The piano beneath it was bone-white, and shining like it had just been wiped. Japan ran a finger along the gleaming surface and held it up to his face. There was not a speck of dust on the pristine white. He found it a little strange, but supposed the cover had protected it from the worst of the accumulation.

The piano beckoned, almost hypnotically. His fingers itched to dance across the keys. He needed the music, and the soothing, rhythmic action needed to produce the music. It would bring some sense of normality back, and calm his leaping nerves. Well, it wouldn't do any harm if he put the muffling pedal down, would it? Italy... it wasn't like you could simply _kill_ a nation, even if he did get caught...

 _No_.

Japan shook his head. The thought of Italy suffering a serious injury came like a stab in the throat. Even if he couldn't die, Japan would not be able to live with himself if he allowed his ally to suffer needlessly. He almost felt ashamed for even thinking of dallying.

Shutting the lid on the keys carefully, Japan walked out of the room without a backward glance.

Broad swathes of sunlight had made it to the hallway through generously proportioned windows. Japan blinked at the sudden, fierce onset of light. Outside, the sun was dropping to the horizon lethargically. He had better hurry.

He went up the hall and turned right at the nearest door, easing it open and entering without noise. It was a large library, significantly bigger than the private one he had encountered the creature in. Rows and rows of wooden shelves stacked neatly along the room, books taking up all available space.

Japan wandered from shelf to shelf, glancing through the aisles to ascertain they were empty.

A shuffling sound came from the back of the room. Japan froze. Then it came again, from the same place.

Japan drew his sword quietly, muffling the sound with his uniform. He crept around the shelves, ready to swing at any opportunity.

He rounded a corner and came at last to where the sound came from.

It was no monster.

Italy sat against a shelf, large brown eyes trained on a book in his lap. His blue uniform stained grey with dust. Occasionally, his foot twitched on the carpeted floor, raising a small puff of dust and causing the shuffling sound Japan had heard. He was biting his lower lip, his eyes darting. He looked tense, like he was going to jump up and run at any second.

Japan broke the silence with a disbelieving " _Itaria?_ "

Italy jolted violently, the book flying out of his lap and skittering across the dusty carpet. He jumped to his feet with a panicked look, before he caught sight of Japan and broke into a huge grin.

" _Giappone!_ " Italy chirped happily, jumping at Japan and throwing his arms around him. Japan let Italy pull him into a enthusiastic hug. Normally, he would have discouraged such an action, but Italy was _here_. He was real, he was solid, and he was uninjured. Japan had found his ally before the monster did. He allowed himself to feel glad.

Italy pulled away and looked Japan over with a worried expression. "Are you okay? Uninjured?" When Japan nodded he broke into a relieved smile.

"You?" Japan inquired.

Italy waved dismissively. " _Veh_ , I'm fine. The creature didn't even scratch my bootlaces. I was fast. Oh-" He blinked, brown eyes flashing to Japan. "There was this huge, grey thing that came right after you left, and-"

Japan held up a hand to stop him. "Prussia told me."

Italy looked surprised. "You found Prussia?"

Japan nodded. "And Germany too. They are waiting for you."

Italy beamed, lighting his face up like the sun had just came out of the clouds. " _Va bene_! We shouldn't keep them waiting, then. Germany will make me run laps if I am late." He shuddered at the thought.

And then there was that one thing about Italy. He could worry about laps in a place like... _this_. That sort of thinking took a very special mindset indeed. The kind of mindset that didn't survive the psychological battering in the trenches, but whose cheerful vivacity made survival possible for others.

Before they burnt into an empty shell, that was. And they always did.

* * *

Japan led Italy back to the safe room where the Germanics resided, warning him in advance not to sing, or whistle, or tap dance, or whatever it was he kept doing instead of walking. To his surprise, Italy had agreed seriously, without a single word of protest.

They really did need to get out of here before anything stranger happened.

Italy trailed behind Japan, keeping a certain distance from him at all times. Japan wondered idly about that. Italy usually had no regard for personal space whatsoever, and seemed to delight in physical contact. The brunet was startlingly silent, walking with his head lowered so his hair fell across his eyes and obscured most of his face from Japan's view. His shoulders were tensed, Japan noticed. Like he was expecting someone to hit him.

Japan broke the crusting silence. "We have arrived."

Italy looked up and blinked, shaking his head a little to clear his hair from his eyes. "Oh!" He said, surprised. "I didn't expect it to be so quick." He stepped forward, past Japan, and placed a hand on the doorknob. "Germany and Prussia are in here?" He asked. "It seems awfully quiet. They're usually so loud when they're together-"

Italy broke off, a stricken look on his face. " _Ay mio dio_." He breathed. He shook his head and backed away from the doorknob. " _No_. No. No."

Japan watched with concern. "What's the matter, _Itaria-kun_?"

Italy didn't look at him. Still muttering under his breath, he brushed past him and opened the door.

They were immediately met by the sight of the grey creature, filling up the bulk of the room. And trapped behind it, the Germanics.

Prussia held his claymore before him, its deadly tip pointed at the creature. Germany had his whip in one hand, and a small service pistol in another. Both parties were absolutely rock-still. There was an invisible battle going on between them. The battle of wills. Each waiting for the other to make the first move, to make a mistake and expose themself to the opponent.

Germany's cold blue gaze slid to Japan and Italy. " _Go_." He hissed through clenched teeth. Prussia twitched his blade a little to mirror the monster's sudden shift towards the doorway.

Japan dropped a hand casually to his sword, while Italy stood frozen to the spot. "My, my." He said calmly. "I must be losing my hearing in my old age... I don't seem to be able to hear you at all." He took a step forward, his cool, dark eyes glancing back toward Italy. "Stay there, Italy."

Italy snapped out of his trance. He looked at the creature with a face devoid of all expression, and then to Germany who was glaring at him and mouthing ' _go_ '. "Oh," Italy stepped forward so he was shoulder to shoulder with Japan. "I don't know, Japan. I think I just got deaf too."

Japan was shocked. But he didn't allow it to show on his face. This place was doing weird things to all of them, there was no doubt about it.

"Italy, you-" Germany ground out.

The monster's attention shifted temporarily to the Germanic nation.

 _Now_.

Japan darted forward, his sword already swinging. The monster spun to meet his attack, taking its attention off the Germanic brothers for a split second.

Then, multiple things happened at once.

Japan changed direction mid-swing, the deadly blade of his katana sweeping low toward the monster's legs. Prussia charged in head on with a war cry, cleaving for the monster's broad skull. Germany's pistol emitted a loud, cracking noise as it fired once, twice at the creature.

The bullets ricocheted off the monster's thick grey skull, doing little or no damage. But it was enough to distract the monster a little. Japan's blade connected with its knees, toppling the enormous creature to the ground. Its limbs flailed wildly as it shrieked in rage and pain.

A flailing fist slammed into a wall, forcing Prussia to leap back to avoid being splattered all over the wallpaper. Germany uncoiled his whip and struck for the wound Japan had created on its knee, perhaps hoping to target a weak point. The creature rolled about on the floor, all five hundred pounds of sturdy grey flesh flailing wildly at any perceived threat. Germany's whip hissed around the creature's ankles and firmly anchored itself there. The monster's next movement jerked the whip out of Germany's hands, forcing him to beat a hasty retreat.

Japan darted in, blade raised, but the erratic thrashing of the monster prevented him from getting close enough to land a blow. Prussia paced around it on the other side, evidently frustrated.

A sound whistled through the air, crackling and hissing. Japan spun around to find Italy standing with a grim expression on his face, and a thick red book open in his hands.

The monster seemed to become sluggish at the sound. Or maybe it was just the burst of energy that shot through Japan's veins at light speed, burning through all traces of fatigue he may have felt previously.

Prussia yelled in glee. He charged at the monster, heedless of the thrashing limbs and somehow managing to avoid getting hit. Japan followed his example, albeit with a little more caution. He used the wall as a springboard and pushed off, sailing towards the monster with three feet of deadly steel gleaming in his hands.

The monster got back to its feet, only to be brought crashing down again when Germany gave his whip a vicious yank.

Japan's katana sheared through the creature's throat as Prussia cleaved its skull in two.

The creature shuddered, and then stilled. Slowly, it dissipated into the air.

The nations spent a moment catching their breaths.

Germany scrutinised Italy thoughtfully. "What was that just now? The ...word you shouted."

Italy fidgeted with the red leather cover of his book. "It's a spell." He murmured. "I found this book in the library before Japan found me." He lapsed into silence, brown eyes staring at the wall absently.

"Awesome find." Prussia grinned. "It was like a shot of pure sugar. Got any more of those?"

Italy nodded, but said nothing.

Japan watched his ally carefully. It wasn't like Italy to be so quiet. Normally, the exuberant brunet would already have been five minutes into a tangent that inevitably led to the subject of pasta.

As if to relieve Japan's concerns, Italy started talking animatedly to the Germanic, hands waving all over the place. "Veh, Germany, I'm really tired right now."

"What did you go and do that for?"

The question seemed to take Italy by surprise. "What?"

"You didn't run." Germany glared at him. Italy squeaked and tried to shrink back on himself. "All those times I ask you to fight, you run away. And when I actually tell you to run, you stay instead. Are you stubborn on purpose or just stupid?"

"I... Germany, I just, I, um-" Italy swallowed.

"What?"

"I -reallydidntwantyoutodie."

Prussia whistled quietly, but was wise enough to prevent himself from making any further interruptions.

" _Was_?"

Italy turned his face away and scuffed his feet. "I didn't want you to die, okay? _Any_ of you."

Germany's expression softened. "We're nations, Italy. We don't die so easily."

"You don't understand." Italy said softly. "It's this place. This- it, the house-" He brought a sleeve up to his face and wiped furiously.

Alarmed, Germany reached for Italy's wrist and gently turned him around to face him. "Italy? Are you crying?"

His answer came in the form of a loud sniffle.

Awkwardly, Germany wrapped his arms around Italy's shaking form and held him close. "We will be out of here in no time, Italy. Don't worry so much about it."

Italy nodded into Germany's chest.

"You said you were tired, _ja_? We will find a place to rest. We can look for a way out tomorrow."

Germany shot a cold stare at his elder brother, who was delighting himself by putting his fingers together and making obnoxious smooching noises.

Japan couldn't help but smile in a way that was a little bitter, but tinged with the memory of sweetness. It reminded him of his own estranged family.


	5. Convergence

Convergence

* * *

Two hours from the meeting place. Right. What America had failed to mention was that it was a two hour _drive_ , not a two hour _walk_. The road ended three quarters of the way to the mansion, and driving through the thick scrub simply wasn't an option. So what did they do? Instead of turning back like a sane being, they had decided to continue. _On foot_.

England was not amused. But if he quit now, America would never let him forget about it. So he hadn't breathed a single word of protest when America announced that he would continue, and any wussies in the party had better quit now.

A buzzing sound near his ear. Something small grabbed hold of his earlobe and tugged. England glanced down to discover a fairy holding onto his ear and seemingly attempting to drag him backwards.

"What is it?" He asked softly, so the other members of the party wouldn't hear.

The fairy squeaked in distress, pointed behind him, and darted away.

Strange. It was like she wanted him to turn back. But he couldn't do that _now_ , especially not in front of America. He'd be the butt of his jokes for another century.

 _If it weren't for me, you'd be speaking German right now!_

England scowled. Git. What did the idiot think would have happened to Europe if _he_ had just conceded to Germany's terms and stayed out of the war? What did he think would have happened to the _world_? _He_ was the only one left in Europe who was still fighting! Four years before America even entered the war!

He knew he was being unfair. Wars happened all the time. They were nations. And the Axis weren't bad as human beings. The problem was, they _weren't_ human beings. And wars happened all the time.

England resurfaced from his thoughts as his foot hit something on the ground. It was a tiny wooden sign mounted on top of something that looked like a molehill. He plucked it out.

 _TURN BACK. HONESTLY. WE KIND OF LIKE YOU AND YOU MIGHT DIE IF YOU KEEP GOING._

England gave a sigh of irritation. Goblins. What the hell were they up to now?

He dropped the sign and continued on his way.

* * *

" _Mon Dieu._ _Your uniform is awful, Britain._ "

" _England."_

 _"What?"_

 _"My name is England."_

 _"You were fine with us calling you Britain before. Angleterre, you_ made _us call you Britain_."

 _"That was centuries ago."_

 _"What do you mean by that? Are you alright?"_

 _"Quite. Now shut up and stop degrading my uniform."_

Canada sighed. They were at it again. For some reason or another, England had taken issue with his previous name. This had been going for quite some time. A decade? Yes, around a decade. And the other countries, being the jerks that they were, wouldn't let him alone about it. Though England never cared to elucidate anybody about his motives, as per usual.

He spotted America sprawled under the shade of a tree with his glasses in the grass beside his head. The mansion was directly in front of them. The Allies had decided to take a break before entering the house, on the account of America suddenly getting cold feet upon his first look of the house. And for some reason, England kept glancing over his back and muttering to himself.

"- _Why can't I call you Britain?"_

" _I just told you!_ "

America was staring at England now. He looked like he was thinking about something. Which was frankly a rare feat for America. He mouthed something over and over again, and it took Canada a while to realise he was repeating ' _What?_ ' over and over again.

Canada rolled his eyes. Thinking, was he?

 _WHANG!_

All heads spun around to see a smiling Russia, who had just banged his pipe into the metal fence. "Well!" He beamed. "If everyone has rested up, we should get going now, _da?_ I've got things to do back home, people to squeeze, you know."

He pushed open the metal gates and strolled through, his long scarf flapping behind him, leaving the others to follow after him at their own pace.

Canada caught England staring back the way the came with a confused expression on his face and a... wrapped sweet in his hand.

"You like candy?"

England started. He looked down at the wrapped sweet in his hand, grimaced, and glanced back up at Canada. "Ah... Don't worry about it. Just leprechauns."

Canada blinked. "Leprechauns?"

England looked at the trail of sweets leading away from the mansion. "Yes, leprechauns."

Canada decided not to bother him about it. The poor guy was already off his head with the whole Brexit business.

* * *

Up close, the mansion looked much more foreboding.

"Oh, look at that. It's actually here." China huffed grouchily. "America's sources were right, for once."

England snorted. "The surprise is mutual, my dear fellow."

"This desolate feel gives it a rather nice touch, _non_?" France mused, meandering up to the house.

England shot him a filthy look. "If you wish to communicate coherently with me then either speak English properly or stick to French. Refrain from defiling both our languages by mixing them together in such an abominable manner."

France winked. "The _petit lapin_ cannot resist my voice, so he must try and stop me in other ways, _oui_?"

England scowled and walked away, cursing under his breath.

"It's not that interesting." Canada volunteered quietly to break the silence. He looked it up and down. It was just another thing of old bricks and overgrown vegetation. He'd seen plenty of those before.

America cupped a hand to his ear in mock confusion. "Did you hear a voice just now?" He asked playfully, waggling his eyebrows at Canada in what he must have thought was a conspiratory fashion.

"Oh, America, you tease!" Russia chuckled, casually barging past Canada as if he didn't exist. "We didn't hear anything, did we?"

Canada looked down and picked at his gloves. America's grin dropped off his face and he glared openly at Russia, which was completely wasted as the taller man was facing the other way.

"Still... it doesn't look like a very fun place." China offered doubfully, breaking the silence.

"Aww, _Kitay_!" Russia grinned. "Come now, just a tiny peek. We'll be out before nightfall."

China threw his hands into the air. "Westerners! Fine, just a little look. Don't get me killed in there. I warn you, I've left you all my paperwork in my will."

" _Eh bien, alors_." France announced. "We shall proceed now, _non_?"

If looks could kill, France would be a puddle of goo by now, courtesy of England.

* * *

Russia scuffed at the dust with a foot. The place was dark and creepy, and it was giving him claustrophobia. He snorted at himself. He was fully aware it was not possible to suddenly develop a phobia within the span of a few seconds, but expressions had to be given their due.

He hated dark, enclosed spaces.

Russia glanced at his two companions. Not his first choices, but majority vote won over his personal preferences. America, in a sudden fit of brotherly concern, had insisted on staying with Canada. England and France had practically turned tail and fled with an almost visible afterglow of relief. China went after them, muttering something under his breath about Westerners and this strange thing called Responsibility.

Russia supposed he must have scared him off again. Though he couldn't remember what exactly it was he did wrong this time.

Well, at least the one with fluffier hair who was convinced he was invisible made a good cushion.

"The rumours say that there's ghosts here, _da_? That's why nobody comes near this place?" Russian spoke distractedly, running a finger over a ledge.

America rolled his eyes. "No _duh_ , dude. And it's such an eerie place too." He shivered involuntarily.

Canada frowned. It was a twenty-five degree day (Celsius). "What, America, are you scared?"

"Ha! Ha... no..." America laughed nervously. He looked around in confusion. "Hey, where is everybody?"

Russia sighed. "They said they'd leave the first floor to us, remember? _Kitay_ is on the second floor, with your brother and France."

America scowled. "He's not my brother. We've been over this."

Russia shrugged. "My bad. I must have forgotten. Ah- America."

"Yes?"

"Are you sure nobody comes here?"

America made a face. "Yeah, why?"

Russia looked down at the floor. The North American brothers followed his gaze. There was a thick layer of dust covering the floor, dotted occasionally by the odd footprint.

Russia silently removed his finger from the ledge and turned it over.

There was no dust on it.

"Holy shit, dude." America breathed. "What, have they got window cleaners in here or-"

Canada slapped a hand over his brother's mouth, motioning urgently at him to be quiet.

 _Thud. Thud. Thud_.

America's eyes bulged from beneath his glasses. Canada could almost hear the _Holy shit, dude!_ emitting from his expression.

"Maybe we should-" Canada began quietly, uncertainly, but was cut off by the sound of Russia drawing a long, slender blade out of his pipe. The taller nation was smiling eerily, with altogether too many teeth for Canada's liking.

He knew then that if he wanted to run away, he'd have to do it alone.

 _Thud. Thud. Thudthudthudthud_.

Whatever it was had broken into a run.

Canada gritted his teeth. Screw it all, he was not going to run alone. He was the only one of the trio who didn't have a weapon. If he ran into it alone, it was strawberry jam time for him. And besides, he did _not_ need America harping on about his cowardice later on.

Soft, America called him. Well, he obviously didn't remember Dresden.

 _Thudthudthudthudthudthud_.

 _Thud_.

And the monster was on them like a tidal wave.

* * *

Meanwhile on the second floor, things had gotten unusually peaceful. Neither of the three nations had killed each other by this time, and for them- well, two of them, that was a serious accomplishment.

"It's quite clean in here." France noted idly, as the three of them walked down a hallway.

England cast a wary glance around. "So it may be." Abruptly he said : "I don't like this."

France smirked. " _Ce quoi ça_ , England? Are you frightened? Don't worry, the big brother of Europe is here-"

"Bugger off." England snarled, and stalked on ahead. It was precisely the hygiene that was bothering him. A house abandoned so long had no right looking so clean. Well, it was possible that the place was actually haunted, and usually that was no big deal as most ghosts just sat in a corner, looked gloomy, and generally didn't murder people in creative and horrible ways like American people assumed. In England's experience, American people, when running out of ideas, always defaulted to gruesome murder.

He had no idea where that came from. He was positive he had kept America well away from Shakespeare in his early years, so it was probably an outside influence of some kind.

"Silly Westerners." China was saying behind him. "There are no ghosts here. Well, none but you guys anyway. I will look around on my own if you are so scared. There's a weird smell coming from over there."

France started off after him. "You're walking off by yourself? This place could be dangerous, you know. Hey, wait!" He hurried off after the departing Orient nation, throwing a desperate look at England over his back.

Swearing under his breath, England sprinted after them.

China stopped in front of the door he claimed had smelled weird. France sniffed the air and grimaced. "That _does_ reek." He admitted. "I have an unpleasant feeling about this."

England bit back a sarcastic reply. He looked over his shoulder reflexively for his constant companion, the ever-present flying mint bunny.

He was nowhere to be seen. Not over his shoulder, not behind his back, not somewhere down the hallway.

Well. That _was_ unusual.

"-and! England!"

England blinked. France was looking at him with something akin to concern (Couldn't be that. His eyes playing tricks on him again).

"You've been quieter than usual," France noted mildly. "What is it?"

England shook his head. "Nothing of importance." He muttered. Abruptly he gestured impatiently at the door. "Are we going in or not?"

China rolled his eyes and pushed it open. "You guys stay out here." He said. "In case America decides to play one of his stupid little jokes and shoot at us. Again." He walked into the room and slammed the door behind him.

England and France looked at each other. " _I_ _ncompréhensible_." France murmured.

England agreed gloomily.

" _Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas avec toi_?"

England started. "Wot, old chap?"

"There's something wrong, isn't there?" When England opened his mouth to deny anything of the sort, France wagged a finger at him. "Oh, no. I _know_ you, _mon vieux_. There's something on your mind. Come on, you can tell me." He suddenly grinned. "Is it perhaps a lady? Big Brother France knows all-"

"Feel free to sod off anytime you want." England grumbled.

"I am not joking." France suddenly looked serious. "I mean it, _Angleterre_."

England sighed resignedly. "There's nothing there," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there's nothing here." England said. "Nothing- or nobody. I expected a few ghosts - ('Just a few ghosts?' France muttered, slightly disgruntled) but there aren't any. No fairies, no shades. Even the Mint Bunny's buggered off to Hell knows where, and God knows he usually sticks to my side like a piece of lint."

"Perhaps it does not like creepy places," France suggested. He knew by now not to dismiss England's 'illusions'. Not after Agincourt, during which England had taken the pleasure of brutally murdering him with a blunt instrument, to whit, a dragon. One that he couldn't see. And anyway, anybody who scorned England's creatures had to suffer weeks of very polite yet scathingly brutal letters flooding under the doorway and through the chimney and in some extreme cases, appearing in the morning omelette. It was a good thing mutilating people with a cutlass was no longer considered genteel, France reflected with a shudder. You could get really _creative_ with a cutlass.

England frowned. "I don't think so. He helped me with an exorcism in a graveyard a week back. And the last time a chimaera tried to steal his food, I had to stitch up the bite marks in its neck. Mint Bunny doesn't scare easily."

Exorcism? France wondered if it involved extreme violence and a sharp instrument. In France's experience, normal exorcisms just entailed some holy water and a lot of mumbling, but England had to be hiding that cutlass and homicidal attitude _somewhere_. Overwhelming sarcasm just didn't quite take up the slack.

He realised England was expecting an answer. "Well, your guess is just as good as-"

Something went _bang_.

Both of them started. The sound didn't come from their floor, of that they were certain. But it didn't mean it wouldn't be coming from their floor in a few seconds. England had his pistol in his hand in a flash. He looked at what France was holding.

"You brought a _sword?"_

"Nothing wrong with a sword," France said defensively. "Hadn't failed me yet. You know where you are with a sword, I've always said. Nobody's ever shot themselves by accident with a sword. And anyway, it's a haunted house. I had it made out of silver. You said normal bullets don't work on ghosts, and shooting silver bullets would be too expensive."

England looked a little lost. "Yes, well, I didn't expect you to actually listen. And I thought you didn't believe in ghosts."

He looked askance at the size of the blade, and then at France's uniform. "And anyway, how in the nine layers of Hell were you hiding it?"

China chose to interrupt France's answer by pushing the doors open violently. His eyes were wide and he looked like he was about to either start screaming or smash somebody's jaw, or both. In short, England thought sardonically, he looked like he had just seen a ghost.

He had was holding something looked like it might once have been white, only the violent red splotches and brown charring strongly disagreed with this theory.

"Japan's uniform," he said before either France or England could get a word out. "I found it in the remains of a fire."

Both European nations peered at the material and arrived at the same thought. The pathetic remnant looked like it barely qualified for a scrap heap, let alone a part of an uniform.

" _Mon Dieu_ ," France said. He looked doubtful. "Are you sure?"

Silently, China turned it over and showed him the barely legible kanji embroidered into the cloth.

"Perhaps he was here before us," France suggested tentatively. "Even if something has happened to him, well, you know a little mauling never keeps us down for long."

For a moment, China looked like he was about to introduce France to the finer arts of mauling, lacerating, and literal back-breaking. Then he subsided. "You're right," he muttered. "It could mean nothing. I am sorry to have caused a fuss." Abruptly, he turned around strode off.

"There's a few thorns in that nest of roses, eh?" England muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Er... yes." France was staring after the diminishing back of the Orient nation.

England nudged him sharply. "I think that gunshot was one of America's." He scowled. "We'd best make sure Canada doesn't get caught in the crossfire. Russia and America aren't the type to look around when they swing."

"I think I'll leave that to you, _mon vieux_." France said suddenly. He gave an apologetic smile. "There's somewhere I'd like to see. Look after _mon petit oiseau_ for me, _s'il vous plait_."

France meandered away, leaving England grumbling to himself.

* * *

Canada nudged Russia tentatively. "Say, you wouldn't have a Kalashnikov stowed away in that coat of yours, by any chance?"

Russia beamed. "Oh, no. Why would we need one?"

There was a screech of protest from the pipe as it came off the wall. Russia gave it a few experimental swings.

Canada backed away. "True, true," he muttered. For once in his life, he wished America was around. They could use the small armoury of firearms stashed in his jacket. He voiced this.

Russia shrugged. "I think, in England's wonderful way of putting things, he has 'buggered off'."

"You're right about that," Canada said gloomily. God, he wished he had something. A hockey stick, for example. He'd settle for a fire iron. Weren't abandoned houses supposed to have a plethora of those lying around in random convenient places? Goddammit, Hollywood.

The two nations looked up at the - whatever it was.

It was big. It was grey. And it was bloody _murderous_. Canada had discovered that when it introduced his head to the wall, extremely insistently.

America had contrived to utterly disappear in the few seconds after the monster showed up. Russia had taken a few swings at it out of sheer bloody-mindedness, and then backed off with a senseless Canada slung over his shoulder.

Now it was doing a spot of ominous looming, right in front of the only exit.

Russia brandished his pipe promisingly when it got too close. Threatening suggested there was a chance the threatener would back off if things got too intense. Russia didn't threaten. Russia _promised_. It was a promise that spoke of wrapping a solid metal pipe around its throat and attaching the other end to a live volcano if it dared so much as wave a finger at him.

"Bloody hellfire! What is that thing?!"

The monster slowly rotated to face the newcomers. A hollow black gaze settled heavily on England, who took a hurried step backwards.

China cursed at him. "Stupid Opium, ever heard of this thing called 'element of surprise'? It means you stab them in the back without letting them know you're there, aru!"

"You took your time," Russia said cheerfully. He gestured nonchalantly at the monster. "As you can clearly see, we are in the middle of an assault. Perhaps you could step out for a moment?"

Suddenly, without any warning, the monster spun around and lashed out a clawed hand at Russia, who deftly blocked it with his pipe.

It sheared neatly in two. The claw went onwards to catch Russia by the sleeve, ripping a bloody gash along his forearm.

The nations stared in horrified fascination as crimson soaked into the torn edges.

Russia lifted his eyes and fixed the monster with a stare that could have frozen an erupting volcano. "That hurt," he said with an eerie calmness.

"The water pipes in this place are no good at all," Russia murmured, pulling a monster of a pipe out of the depths of his coat. Whoever built it must have done so under the impression they needed to turn a desert into a rainforest. "Good thing I have one of my own, _da_?"

-and then suddenly the slim strip of metal was flashing toward the monster with the speed of a striking bullet, no longer a pipe but a beautifully crafted sword blade with the single-minded purpose of death and mutilation.

The thing howled as a jagged line of red appeared in its forearm. It had not managed to dodge in time, but had been quick enough at least to keep its arm attached to its body.

" _Lao tian ye!_ " China exclaimed approvingly. "That's nasty!"

Russia grinned in delight. "You like it? I had Japan make it for me, he is very good with blades."

The monster had recovered. It fixed its hollow, unblinking gaze upon the nations, promising a future that involved being very finely spread across the floorboards.

There was an almost silken sound as China pulled a tasselled sword from his robes. _Golly_ , England thought irritatedly. _How do they_ hide _those things?_ He was starting to feel a little left out.

Canada did not like the way the elder nations were looking at the monster. It was a blank, calculating gaze, devoid of human emotion. It was the kind of look you should get on a computer-controlled turret as it zoomed in on a target, not something you should ever be able to see on human features.

England clicked the safety off on his pistol and took aim.

There was no ' _alright, my lads, let's do this_ ' or even an ' _are you ready?_ '. The three nations blurred into action simultaneously. China and Russia took a side each, blades flying in tandem as they neared the target. England's first bullet hit the dead center of the thing's forehead, only to rebound without doing any visible damage. However, it had the effect of stunning the creature a little, knocking it off balance long enough for China's sword to shear through a shoulder.

England cursed under his breath and dropped his pistol. The monster shrieked and swung wildly, forcing China and Russia to retreat.

Canada watched powerlessly. He wished he had a weapon. He wanted to join the fight, but he knew the rules. If he couldn't support his own weight, he'd end up getting in everyone else's way.

"The skin is tough," China was muttering under his breath. "That should have taken its whole arm off."

"You need silver," England told him. "Salt and lavender will do in a pinch. Or hazel, ash, aspen stakes, or iron. Add holy water to preference. Plain steel swords are no good. If it didn't have iron in it, you wouldn't have been able to touch it."

China stared at him. "Ghost business, aru?"

"You could say that, old chap."

England raised his hands, palms facing the thrashing tangle of grey limbs. "However, magic will also do the job."

" _Caderet mortuus_."

The words hit the air like a thunderclap. The soundwaves reverberated around the narrow confines of the room, making everyone's ears pop. The monster howled as its skin started to blacken and wither.

Abruptly, the rush of noise ceased. England stumbled back with a hand on his chest, wheezing slightly.

Canada stared in bewilderment. He'd seen the man take a whole collapsing building apart and put it back together without so much as blinking. England was looking just as shocked, if not more.

"What on God's bloody earth-"

The monster launched itself to its feet with a growl, spattering the walls with blood.

"Looks like you just made it angry, _tovarishch_ ," Russia said conversationally. He lifted his pipe-sword again, flicking the tip carelessly as he walked forward. "I've not let tanks stop me before, silver or not, this _ublyudok -"_

 _"Out of the way!_ "

Something white and moving quite fast leapt from a table and darted toward the monster, which was just starting to move forward. There was a flash of steel, and the monster's head was suddenly no longer attached to its body.

There was a _thud,_ and then everything lay still.

" _日本。"_

Japan started. He sheathed his katana and turned to face China. " _Kon'nichiwa, Chugoku-san_ ," he murmured. "This is not a good place to be. There are monsters."

"No? My bad, I thought they were Santa's little elves." England's voice oozed condensed sarcasm. "Well, man, what the Hell are you doing here, anyhow?"

"Looking for you," Japan replied quietly. "Italy insisted, after he saw China's text."

China stared at him. "I sent the text half an hour ago, when we arrived. It's a three hour walk from the meeting place to here, and there's no way you can drive through that kind of scrubland."

Japan stared right back. Then he brought out his phone and showed them the screen.

Canada craned his neck to read it. The contact's name read 'China'. Just 'China'. No nicknames, no emojis. It wasn't even in Japanese.

 _We're going to this haunted house. America insisted. If my boss comes nagging, please direct all complaints to the USA section. - Sent 14:56, 6hrs ago._

"I distinctively remember sending it not half an hour ago," China said, puzzled. He took out his own phone and brought up the message.

 _\- Sent 14:56, 36 mins ago_.

It was the same message, no doubt about it.

"Creepy, _da_?"

England cursed. "Blast it. There's something paranormal going on here, and I don't bloody like it one bit. You said Italy's here. What about Germany, Prussia, and Austria?"

"Austria refused," Japan replied. He looked a little uneasy. "Germany is with Italy. Prussia... well, we haven't seen Prussia since two hours ago."

"Bugger that for a lark," England said, summing up everyone's feelings neatly. "Well, what are we going to do about it?"

"I'd like to take you to the safe room first," Japan said calmly. "Then, we can discuss the situation."


	6. Allies

Allies

* * *

Japan led the way silently through corridors zebra-striped with sunlight and shadows. He remembered the blood on the wall. It was strange. There had been no blood before. The creature had vanished as per usual, but it had left a sickening pattern of crimson splotches on the wall. The blood refused to fade away. Blood always did.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your sword made out of?" England murmured. He was always casting wary glances behind them, as if afraid the monster would suddenly reappear if he stopped looking.

"It's a ceremonial sword," Japan replied. In truth, it was so much more than that. The sword had a history. Once upon a time, it had killed hundreds without touching a single drop of blood. It was an emperor's sword, built not for usefulness or performance, but for appearance and value. It was a symbol. "Pure silver, I believe."

England hummed thoughtfully. "No wonder, then."

He drifted away, to be replaced by China.

"Are you hurt?"

The question caught Japan off guard. Once upon a time, he was used to hearing such expressions of concern. That 'once upon a time' had been a long time ago.

"No," he replied brusquely.

China held up a piece of charred fabric. With a slight start that did not show up on his blank features, Japan recognised it as a part of his own uniform.

The scrap was badly charred and stained with something red, but the _kanji_ were still legible. China did not speak. The red patch on the fabric spoke for him.

"It's just tomato," Japan said quietly, wondering how on _Earth_ the elder nation had gotten a hold of it. He was so sure he had completely destroyed the bits he didn't use.

China lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed?" His expression remained impassive. Japan could never tell what was going on beneath those dark eyes, so similar to his own. You never knew what China was thinking unless he wanted you to.

"We were caught unawares by the creature. Italy threw some tomatoes at it and I... got in the way. It was lucky I had a spare uniform at hand. The smell was bothering me."

"Oh? So you burnt your first uniform?"

"Yes."

China scrutinised Japan. There was a slightly raised patch beneath his pristine white jacket that suggested the presence of hidden bandages made hastily out of a torn-up uniform. It was so faint as to be unnoticeable, but China always did have an eye for detail.

Japan raised his eyes challengingly, as if daring China to call him out. He was no longer the boy forever clutching fearfully at the elder nation's sleeve in the hopes his presence would be able to keep the monsters at bay. He was no longer one of China's little siblings, and he did not need to be treated as such.

"I see." China's expression did not change. He dropped his pace so that he was no longer in step with Japan.

The rest of the walk stretched into a subdued silence.

It seemed an eternity before they arrived at the room with the steel door. Italy jumped up from where he was sitting, a huge grin spreading across his face.

" _Ve_ , Japan, am I glad to see you all here! Are any of you injured? I can help with injuries-"

Japan assured him that they were not.

Germany cleared his throat. " _Hast du_ _Preussen gesehen_?" He asked.

Japan shook his head regretfully. " _Gomen_."

Germany nodded, and fell silent.

Russia sat down on the bed, the ancient springs protesting under his weight. "America and France are missing too," he said, stretching out his legs lazily. "America, I am not too worried about. He has a very big gun. France, I am not so sure. He gives up easily." He tilted his head and grinned.

England scowled. It was clear to him that his privilege of being the sole personification allowed to scrap with France was being contested. "Oh, I don't know. He's got a proper silver sword on him, and he, unlike some, knows how to swing a sword in a way that actually damages the opponent."

Russia opened his mouth to fire back a retort, only to be interrupted by Canada, of all people.

"Can we please not fight, just this time?" Canada asked in a soft tone that wasn't used to being able to shear someone's else's sentence in half. "There's some of us out there who could be in danger."

There was a stunned silence.

Then England said: "I apologize. Canada, Russia, I hope you will not take it amiss of me. It is a distressing time."

"I, too." Russia said solemnly. "I will try to stop myself from becoming too much of a nuisance for the time being."

Canada sighed. Empty words, from the both of them. But it was the best they were going to get.

Germany clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "I would assume Japan has already filled you in for the most part, but so far, this is what we have experienced..."

* * *

America wandered listlessly through the dusty hallways with his heart doing somersaults in his throat. He hated creepy enclosed spaces. He hated the dust and the darkness. But most of all, he hated being alone. He was used to being the center of attention all the time. But now nobody was paying him any attention, save the dust and the shadows. And maybe the monster.

He shivered involuntarily. The dead air stirred in the wake of his footsteps, bring up little swirls and eddies of dust. He always thought England was a little cuckoo, y'know, the guy was _old_ , but maybe it would have paid to give him a little bit of attention when he was on one of his rants about paranormal activity.

It wasn't like this in the movies. They never said anything about monsters immune to an AS50 rifle. And what nettled him most was that he hadn't even managed to heroically save his unarmed brother, who had gotten himself knocked out and dragged away to who-knows-where by the commie, of all people, while America himself tried to lure the monster away, only to be completely ignored. Boy, that hadn't sat well with his psyche. And when he tried to follow after them, he somehow got himself completely and utterly lost.

Now he was meandering around by himself in a confirmed haunted mansion, with no idea what had happened to the others. They could be all dead, for all he knew, not that a little dying ever kept them down for long. But that'd mean he was the only one left in the mansion, and golly, he was starting to freak. He'd been afraid of the dark bit under his bed as a child, which was why he'd nicked one of England's fancy pistols and stowed it in his pillowcase. England had heard all about it when the maid cleaned out his bedroom and collapsed in a dead faint, on the account that there was still a bit of dried blood sticking to the handle and England hadn't had the time to clean it out before America finagled it, and the red stuff had come off all over the pillowcase. He could still see England struggling to decide between giving him an earful or a week's worth of sweets. Pirate England did not take kindly to people who fainted at the sight of blood, especially when it wasn't even runny anymore.

A strange thought struck him unexpectedly. He hadn't thought to ask England how the blood had gotten there, or what he had been doing before he came home with the pistol. All he remembered was that there'd been a little trouble with another country, and England was wearing a hell lot of bandages. America felt a little guilty about that. He knew they were fighting over him - they were always fighting over him. It could have been England's blood on the pistol.

Dude, that was _macabre_. He didn't need to know what England had been doing, that didn't matter anymore. Especially not now. There was nobody here with him, and the place was _creepy_.

America became aware of a faint _thudding_ sound, like very heavy footsteps getting closer.

"Oh, boy," he muttered to himself, finding the smooth handle of his rifle under his bomber jacket. This was going to be one _hell_ of a showdown.

The hero was not afraid. He couldn't afford to be.

* * *

"So, Prussia's disappeared, there's a chance these things can kill us _permanently_ , you can't get out of the door because it's locked, and you can't get out of the windows because they're barred. And there are more monsters around than we've seen," China summed up. "Very well done of us, I'd say. Perhaps we could have picked somewhere safer, like an erupting volcano?"

"Seems like you've got the gist of it," England commented dryly.

"Oh, and we found this scrap of paper in a box when we tried to burn it for firewood," Italy piped up, waving a torn page with two coloured stripes on it. "I thought it might be important. Maybe the owner of this house liked to play pranks on their guests?"

"It's a possibility," England murmured. "I've met some evil sons of sows in the poltergeist business."

"Oh, Russia," Canada suddenly spoke up, startling everyone including himself. "I forgot to thank you for carrying me out of that mess."

Russia shrugged. "It is not a problem. Leaving without my comrade was not an option," he said sincerely.

China rolled his eyes. "I thought I was your comrade."

Russia beamed delightedly. "All of you are comrades. But you are a special comrade, _Kitay_."

"Glad to hear it," China mumbled under his breath.

All of a sudden, there was an almighty _Bang!_ at the door.

"Bollocks!" England cursed. "The bastard's found us again, now what?"

"The door will hold for some time," Germany shouted over the din of the hammering. "I have not finished reinforcing the base, so we cannot hide. I suggest we split into groups-"

"One to fight the devil, one to look for for the others, and another to look for an exit," England shouted back. "We will all meet at the room with the piano. I assume everybody knows where that is? Good! I will take Canada and look for the others, you and Italy-"

"Japan, Russia, and I will take care of the monster," China interrupted. "We are settled, now go!"

The door splintered apart as the creature entered.

" _Privet,_ " Russia called out cheerfully, catching the monster's attention. Japan and China drew their swords simultaneously. The two other groups darted out of the open doorway at the first opportunity. Italy cast a worried backward glance at them.

 _Go!_ Japan mouthed urgently. Italy went.

"It is not very often the three of us get to do something nice together," Russia said with a broad smile. "Wouldn't it be nice if it happened more often?"

China snorted derisively. "If you want us to cooperate like the nice, friendly neighbours that we aren't on an occasion where our lives aren't at risk, I have a sinking feeling."

He suddenly smiled disarmingly at them. "When we get back, I am throwing a party. I promise to cook your favourite Chinese dishes and not let England near the kitchen, how about it?"

Japan gave him a wan smile. "I look forward to it, _Chugoku-san_. And I, in turn, promise to do my best to not die on the way."

"Am I invited?" Russia asked as the monster advanced into the room, filling all available space with its bulk.

"Of course. If we both leave alive, that is."

Russia's eyes lit up in a pleasant sort of surprise. "I shall not let you down, _Kitay,"_ he promised.

* * *

"-could be that they're not ghosts, of course. Poltergeist activity is hardly ever _this_ serious, but perhaps the first spectre was just very, very angry. Infestations like this, well, haven't seen one like it since the bubonic plague..."

England muttered unceasingly under his breath, his eyes fixed blankly on a spot in the ceiling. Canada walked a little ways behind, keeping a wary eye out in case anything out of the normal happened to them. More out of the normal than the normal kind of out-of-normal, anyway. Nations got used to surprises after a while.

"-iron, and silver works on _anything_ supernatural, but sea salt and lavender only works on ghosts. We'd have to find some of that, conduct a test-"

He broke off to try a door handle. It was locked.

"That's just about the whole house," Canada said quietly. "Perhaps they left?"

England shook his head. "You heard Japan. The door was locked, and all the windows are barred. There's no other way out."

Canada opened his mouth to suggest that maybe America had made himself a new exit, given his strength nowadays. He closed it again. He didn't want to upset England. A century ago, he could have pulled down a reinforced concrete wall with ease.

"Let's head up to the piano room, then," England turned and walked back the way they had come. "You know those three. They're probably playing some absurd kind of practical joke on us."

"Yes," Canada murmured. The alternative was too terrifying to think about.

* * *

"The creature was a little bigger than the one before," Germany noted.

"They'll get bigger, I expect," Italy said. "Maybe we should go back and help them?"

Germany stared at him. For the past hour or so, Italy had been refusing to meet his eye. He had not tried to glomp him, kidnap his hand, or otherwise show any signs of the bouts of enthusiastic physical affection he was prone to exhibit for at least _two hours_. And he hadn't made a half-witted comment about food since they entered the mansion.

The world was turning in strange and incomprehensible ways. Germany did not like it one bit.

"No. First we should accomplish the mission given to us." German said firmly. "China, Russia, and Japan are fully capable of handling themselves. We have been tasked to fully understand this house so that we can lighten their burden."

Italy suddenly looked very interested in his boots. The laces, Germany noted with more than a touch of surprise, were tied.

" _Si_ ," Italy said in a subdued voice. "I suppose you're right. But if we see a monster, we have to run away." He fixed an uncharacteristically hard gaze on Germany. " _Both_ of us."

Something about the tone of his voice reached out and slapped the soldier in Germany to instant attention. He resisted an urge to salute. _Mein Gott_ , Germany thought wonderingly. He tried to remember if the creature had somehow landed a blow on his head. Or Italy's head. The answer came out as a negative.

"Duly noted," Germany said in surprise. "Let us get on with the job at hand, then."

* * *

The three nations operated on pure instinct and muscle memory. Silver flashed as the blades rose and fell with a graceful rhythm. The monster had already lost an arm to Japan's katana.

China back away from a swinging claw and calmly sheathed his sword.

" _Nanishiteruno?_ " Japan yelled as he batted a flailing limb away from him.

"Normal steel is no good, England said," China explained. He raised his fists and waited for the monster to get close. "However, I am a little stronger than before-"

He suddenly lashed out like a striking viper. There was a nasty _crack_ as his fist connected with the creature's jaw and threw its bulbous head backwards violently. The monster staggered back, and slowly folded into a dazed heap.

"-and I happen to be wearing a silver ring," China finished smugly.

There was a rustle of fabric as Russia stepped up. "My turn now, comrade."

Japan retreated from the monster and sheathed his blade. " _Hai_. All yours."

Russia grinned. "Watch this."

" _Kolkhoze_."

A blast of freezing air swept out and hit the monster with the force of a runaway train. There was an almost comic _tink!_ as the unfortunate creature was frozen solid. Then it shattered.

"What was that, aru?" China said, stunned, as the tinkling and crashing died down.

"It is a spell. England made it for me." Russia beamed at his shocked companions. "Very impressive, _da_? He said spells were hard to make. I bought it from him for a great price."

"What was it?" China asked curiously.

Russia shrugged dismissively. "I smuggled him to the moon."

There was a proverbial _thud_ as jaws hit the floor.

"You know, he asked me for a ride up when I started building rockets, too," China said after a beat of silence.

"Maybe he just really likes the moon," Japan suggested.

The three nations digested this silently.

"Funny man, isn't he?" China said at last. "I wonder what goes on in that head of his."

Something buzzed in one of Russia's coat pockets. "It's just my phone," he said, as the other two reached for their swords.

" _Privet, eto Rossiya."_

There was a beat of silence after his answer. Then-

 _Beep_

The other caller hung up.

Russia frowned. "It was a note," he said, puzzled. "A piano note. _Sol_."

 _Sol_. Sole. Alone.

"Somebody is playing a bad joke," he murmured to himself. "I do not like it."

* * *

Italy peeked cautiously around the bookcase.

"Alright," he whispered, tugging on Germany's sleeve. "I think it's not here."

"You think?" Germany hissed. "Can you see it or not?"

"No."

"Well, then it's not here."

Germany moved out from behind the bookcase, trying his damndest not to make any noise. It wasn't working, probably due the fact he was wearing steel-tipped boots.

Italy detached himself from the bookcase reluctantly and followed after him. He thought he had caught a flash of grey disappearing around the corner just before, but it could have been paranoia. It _could_ have been paranoia, but then again the last time he had thought the same thing the red carpet had gotten a whole lot redder.

His breath kicked in his throat. Italy slowed down and put a hand on his temple.

 _(-screams that he wasn't supposed to hear... damn you, damn you, what gives you the right-!_ )

"Italien?"

Italy started. He realised he had been breathing faster than he should have and tried to get it back under control. He turned away and rubbed furiously at the traitorous tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes.

A hand touched his shoulder with surprising gentleness. " _Geht es dir gut?_ "

Italy lowered his hand and managed a shadow of a smile. " _Ve,_ I am fine, thank you for asking. It's just this place. It is... it is a little distressing."

Germany looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, yes, that is understandable." He removed his hand. "If you wish to talk about it..." he trailed off uncertainly.

" _Grazie_." Italy gave him a wan smile.

The silence was abruptly broken by a faint _thudding_ sound. Germany cursed and started to reach for his pistol.

Italy grabbed his hand before it reached the holster. "No!" He shouted. "You said you'd run! You _promised_!"

Germany stared at him, and then decided to go with it. He let Italy drag him around several bookcases and then around a table, all the while screeching and cursing at the thing in rapid Italian. Germany winced. He didn't understand some of the choicer selection of swears, but what he did understand made him wish for some detergent. Possibly some bleach.

Italy fired off one last volley of curse words and bolted for the door, pushing Germany in front of him like a bewildered shopping trolley.

They legged it down the hallways and eventually stopped in a kitchen of sorts, wheezing for breath. They listened intently. The sounds of pursuit had faded away.

Panting, the two took notice of their surroundings. There was a door in the far left corner of the kitchen. Germany and Italy shared a look, and by silent mutual agreement, they ventured into it.

There were rows of bookshelves in this room, too. Whoever had lived here had been an avid reader.

Italy pointed silently at a golden safe in a corner. The two nations meandered up to it, keeping a wary eye on the bookshelves in case the monster decided to spring out at them.

Germany wiped the dust off the golden surface. There was a rotating locking mechanism like a cable lock on a bicycle with four rows of numbers. He tried to handle, and found to no surprise at all it was locked.

"Pity," Italy whispered. He examined it curiously. "Perhaps there is something inside that could help us."

"Or perhaps there are some very old pictures of things the house owner did not want the world to see," Germany said bluntly. "Come on, we have to keep going."

They looked around the room, and upon realising there was no other way out of it, exited the place via the kitchen.

Germany growled in frustration as they chanced upon yet another locked door. He was turning away from it when Italy caught his hand and pressed a small silver key into it. He grinned nervously when Germany stared at him. "Japan gave it to me," he said embarrassedly. "I forgot to tell you about it."

Germany shrugged and inserted the key into the lock. It turned easily.

They found themselves in a Japanese style... living room? Italy wasn't sure. He hadn't spent as much time in Japan as he would have liked. He couldn't tell one Japanese-styled room from another. There were tatami mats on the floor, almost indistinguishable from the layers of dust that had settled on the ground.

A section of the room split to the side, leading to a broken wardrobe. Italy meandered up to it curiously, leaving Germany to look around the other parts of the room. Someone had taken the time to paint a pretty picture of a peacock sitting on a branch delicately onto the screen. He'd seen it all before, of course, but it was still nice to see a spot of colour amongst the dust and the shadows.

There was a balled-up piece of paper wedged into the crack running through the screen. Italy stared at it. He hadn't noticed it before. The crack in the glass was just big enough to accomodate the scrap of paper, yet not big enough to bring the entire screen shattering down.

He plucked out the piece of paper and unfolded it.

"Germany!" he called as loudly as he dared.

Germany appeared almost instantly, his pistol in one hand and the handle of his whip in another. He relaxed somewhat when he saw that Italy was still in one piece and the monster was nowhere to be seen.

"Look!" Italy said excitedly. He brought out the piece of paper he had found before and smoothed it out. Then he pieced it together with the new scrap.

It was a perfect fit.

There were four stripes of colour, each drawn in crayon and spaced evenly apart. There was none of the discolouration that should by all rights be present from spending possibly decades in an abandoned house.

Germany frowned at it. "It is strange," he conceded. "But I do not see how it is relevant to anything."

Italy shrugged, tucking both pieces away in a pocket. "Maybe we will find out later. For now-"

A noise erupted cheerily in the dead stillness. The two nations gave a cry of shock and looked wildly around for the source of the noise. Then Italy gave an embarrassed laugh and took his phone out of his pocket.

"How is it working?" Germany said, startled. "There is no signal here."

The screen of the phone said _No Caller ID_.

"I don't know." Italy gave a helpless shrug and raised the phone to his ear. " _Ciao_?"

There was utter silence from the other end. And then suddenly there was a _beep_.

Whoever had called abruptly hung up.

"What was that about?" Germany asked after a beat of stunned silence.

Italy looked shaken. "I'm not sure. But that note just then - it was a piano key. ' _Si'_ on the fifth octave."

"' _Si_ '?" Germany snorted. "Somebody is playing a joke on you."

"Maybe," Italy muttered. Abruptly, he said: "We should head back to the piano room now. Everybody will be waiting for us."

* * *

England entered the room first, scanning every corner warily, and then beckoned for Canada to come in.

England found an ancient light switch and flicked it, ancient light bulbs humming into life with an arthritic slowness.

Canada wandered over to the white piano that occupied the center of the room. He blew the dust off the lid and raised it carefully.

"England!"

The nation in question appeared by his side and frowned down at the keys. Somebody had drawn numbers clumsily onto them in colourful permanent marker.

"Well, that is one way to devalue a good piano," he remarked.

"Could be a clue," Canada suggested quietly. He felt ridiculous for saying it. Clue to what, exactly? People don't leave other people clues on how to get out of their houses. The whole situation was absurd.

But England seemed to take it seriously. "Could be. There's all sorts out there, you know," he added when he saw the look on Canada's face. "Some ghosts like to play silly buggers. Well, we've just got to raise the stakes a little, eh? Play them right back, that kind of thing."

Canada nodded uneasily. He didn't look like he was taking well to the sound of that at all.

Out of the corner of his eye, England thought he caught a flash of grey. It was gone by the time he snapped around.

His heart seemed to temporarily relocate to the pits of his stomach. Neither of them had a weapon. If the creature cornered them in here, it was curtains for the both of them.

"Stay here," England hissed. "Don't move a step, you hear? If the thing comes in here while I'm away, _run_."

Canada gave a jerky nod. Aside from the way his lips pinched ever so slightly together, there was nothing to suggest he was even remotely unsettled by the situation. Good, England thought approvingly. He had learnt fast.

Canada sat down at the piano when England left the room. He let his fingers play silently over the childish sprays of colour on the keys. Perhaps it _was_ a clue. Now, what country were they in again... oh yes, Indonesia. Did Indonesia have any traditional folk songs? Perhaps the piano was a clue for a password. Maybe there was a back door with a numeric lock somewhere.

He tried to remember Indonesia's national anthem.

Indonesia, for God's sake. America had gone a long way to get them into trouble _this_ time. Canada found himself slipping back into the perpetual sea of frustration dedicated to the subject of America. Couldn't he be more considerate? His recent demands were skipping rope over the boundary between Bloody Stupid and Unbelievable Arrogance-

Canada stopped himself. Getting political was never a good thing. Sometimes it confused him. Was he a person or was he a country? It was hard enough to be one without having to cope with both at the same time. Whoever had come up with the concept of personifications had a very twisted sense of humour indeed.

The door banged against the wall.

"Oh, England," Canada muttered distractedly. "I've got a theory about this-"

He abruptly stopped as an enormous shadow fell over the piano. Very, very slowly, he turned around to face the owner of that shadow.

The monster gazed back at him blankly. Canada froze. Claws the size of small sabers clicked against each other not two feet away from his face. _What big claws you have, Grandma_! trilled a hysterical voice in the back of his head.

He reached instinctively for the comforting familiarity of Kumadia's fur, only to remember he had left him with the car when the road ended.

Canada wondered dimly why he wasn't lying dead in a puddle of his own blood. His lungs informed him of the fact he wasn't breathing and told him to do something about it, which he failed to do. He remembered a time during the course of the war, when he was trying to fly a plane with both engines down and watching a German warplane, guns blazing, zoom towards him in what had felt like slow motion. Afterwards he had woken up in the headquarters with Britain and Australia hovering around him with bandages and various items of medicinal property, viciously verbally assaulting any human doctor who dared to get too close.

Whatever happened next would be a lot more final.

The monster turned its head a little so it was looking over his right shoulder. It hadn't seen him, Canada realised. But how? He was almost underfoot!

It gave the room one more glance-over, and apparently satisfied there was nobody there, lumbered out of the room.

Canada sagged against the piano and gasped for breath. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as his lungs fought for what they were due. He looked at the entrance again. The creature was gone. He wondered if it was blind. But it hadn't seemed to hear him, either. He'd have to report this to England.

England! Canada rocked to his feet. The monster had gone out of the only exit to the room, and if it had met England coming back from the other way-

Canada bolted for the door and looked wildly around him. The monster was nowhere in sight, but who knew if-

A hand clapped down on his shoulder. Canada jumped, stifling a yell.

"Sweet Jesus, Canada," an irritated voice hissed in his ear. "What's crawled up your trousers?"

Canada stared at England, his mouth half-open. England stared back. "Well?"

"There was a monster. In this room. It - I think it didn't see me, er-"

Pretty soon Canada was letting his mouth run off by itself while his brain watched from a safe distance. England guided him back into the room, still gabbling, and seated him down at the piano.

When he'd finished, England was giving the ceiling a very thoughtful look. It was the same kind of look he had just before the local exorcists suddenly found themselves out of jobs, and ghosts and demons decided to become strictly vegetarian almost overnight. It was the look he had when the cutlass went back onto the mantelpiece still glowing from its repeated passage through multiple concentrations of ectoplasm. Back in the days when England still practiced capital punishment, when he had the Look, it meant going somewhere quiet and secluded to burn off all the bloodied rags he'd used to clean his blade, almost every night.

"Bigger than all the other ones you'd seen so far, eh?" He was still doing the Look. It wasn't a Look that suggested something particularly violent was about to happen, in fact, it didn't suggest anything at all. It was completely and utterly blank, like all his expressions had unanimously decided simply evacuating was a better survival strategy. It was the lack of anything at all that made the Look all the more terrifying.

"Er... yes."

"I see."

England lapsed into silence.

"It didn't see me," Canada tried again. "Perhaps I did something - maybe there's a tactic we can use to become invisible to it."

England snorted. Because he didn't want to hurt Canada's feelings, he did so quietly. The fact that the creature ignored Canada was no surprise by itself. There were a few times during Canada's upbringing when England had almost accidentally decapitated him for an assassin, as the boy as a person had been unobtrusive to the point of invisible even back then. There were grey things clinging to the sides of rocks that were more noticeable than Canada, though he didn't voice this out loud.

"I will look more into it," he promised Canada in an attempt to appease him.

Two figures appeared in the brighter light coming through the doorway. " _Ciao_ ," Italy called cheerfully. "Did you find our missing friends?"

"Unfortunately, no," England replied. Italy's grin dimmed a little, although he made an effort to keep it from slipping entirely off his face.

"The _Dummkopf_ brother of mine is probably hiding," Germany grumbled. "They will have found each other by now and are plotting an amusing demise for us."

Italy beamed. " _Si!_ And now we are only waiting for Russia and-"

As if on cue, the sounds of a whispered argument drifted through the doorway. Japan greeted the gathering with an almost apologetic look on the behalf of China and Russia, and made his way to his allies.

"-just saying it might have been able to tell us something, aru!"

"It was annoying," Russia insisted stubbornly. "Either it was going to go or my sanity was."

"What's this?" Germany whispered to Japan.

"Russia destroyed a clock in the room we were in," Japan explained. "China thought it might have been a clue, as clocks left in abandoned mansions normally don't keep working after a decade. As you can see, Russia didn't listen."

His dark eyes shifted to Italy. "Also, the time on our phones synced immediately after the clock was destroyed. So perhaps it _was_ a clue."

Italy blinked under Japan's blank gaze. The older nation's expression promised an interrogation in private later. Japan knew something, or at least suspected something. But whatever it was, he wasn't saying anything.

It was so, so, typically Japan.

As if reading from a script in his head, Italy pulled his phone from his pocket and widened his eyes convincingly in surprise. "Oh, look! My phone says it's 8:42 now. I could have sworn it was three-something earlier."

Germany checked his own mobile and noted the same thing.

"So it _was_ relevant, aru," China said triumphantly. Russia crossed his arms with a petulant look and retreated into a corner.

" _Si_ , but I don't think Russia is wrong in smashing them," Italy said quickly. "If it synced your clocks, it may be a good thing to be rid of them."

This time it was China who crossed his arms and scowled.

"There are coloured numbers marked onto the piano," Canada spoke up quietly. "I wonder if it means something?"

Italy wandered over to the piano and looked down at the keys. "Oh!" he said in surprise. "I forgot to say, I've found the other half of the coloured stripes. This could be linked."

He passed the paper to Canada, who examined it thoughtfully.

All of a sudden, a ringing noise punctured the atmosphere. England cursed, and fumbled for his phone.

"My phone rang earlier, too!" Italy piped up.

"So did mine," Russia said quietly. "All I got was a piano note."

Italy stared at him. "Me too."

England shot them a stare and raised the phone to his ear. "Hello, England speaking."

 _Beep_.

The noise rang through the silent room and wedged itself into everyone's skull.

"Well, I never!" England grouched. "How rude." He put his phone back into his pocket. "It was a _re,"_ he told the assembly of staring faces. "Well?"

"I think I see a pattern here," Italy said at last. "Now, I think we need to wait for one more phone call-"

At that moment, Germany's phone hummed into life.


End file.
